More Than We Bargained For
by dmitri
Summary: Harry and Severus have a summer fling, which they agree to end when the holidays are over. But do either of them really want it to stop? And what will be the repurcussions? Warnings: HPSS slash MPREG
1. Start

disclaimer: _i don't own any of the HP universe, surprisingly enough :p_

warnings: _slash, HPSS, mpreg in later chapters/ if you don't like any of that, please don't read this. you have been warned._

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--- Chapter One ---  
Start

_Start (vb): to set something in motion_

It was a good summer – probably one of the best Harry had ever known. With the threat of Voldemort finally gone he was allowed to spend the whole holidays away from the Dursleys. Hell, he never had to go back to them again.

Rumours flew around the Wizarding world, of course, about where the Boy-Who-Lived-…Again would be staying. With the Weasleys? At Hogwarts? In Bulgaria, perhaps, paying a visit to Viktor Krum. Some of the more . . . peculiar people even suggested that he was out hunting crumple-horned snorkacks and nargles in Outer Mongolia. Still, none of these theories came close to the truth. Had any gossipers actually followed up on their plans of stalking the boy, they would have had rather a surprise in store for them when they wound up at a certain Potions master's abode.

Sirius and Remus had gotten married at the beginning of the holidays, so Harry had felt it prudent to let them have their space. The Weasleys were all staying with the Delacours in France. All except for Ron, who was spending the summer with Hermione's family, where he was slowly learning how to use a computer. He and Hermione were finally in a steady (if sometimes a little explosive) relationship.

This left Harry without a place to stay. That is until he was offered a place at Snape Manor. Harry and Severus had fought side by side at the end of the war and had developed not just a truce and the use of each other's first names, but a state of respect between them. Draco had also been staying at the manor, seeing as he had been formally disowned by his family when he began to fight for the light side in the war. Surprisingly enough Harry had found that after the first, insult-hurling days, he and Draco had ended up good friends. They had a lot more in common than they thought, and now that Draco had finally chosen to fight for what he believed in, as opposed to being forced into Voldemort's ranks by his father, he had stopped being a smug, arrogant bastard. Well, some of the time at least. That wasn't to say that Harry and Draco didn't continually argue about pointless subjects, but underneath it all they had a new-found liking of the other, though neither would admit it.

The summer drew on, and neither Severus nor Harry could really remember when it all started, but somewhere along the way they got caught up with each other. They agreed on a summer fling, that would end as soon as the holidays did, deciding that they both deserved at little bit of happiness after all that had occurred. It was a fun, relaxed environment at the manor that summer, something Harry had never imagined in his wildest dreams, with Draco rolling his eyes at all the childish antics Harry and Severus got up to (one of which involved a marathon game of hide and seek which ended, rather predictably, in one of the many bedrooms). Still, Draco was mindful to keep out from under Harry and Severus' feet, often leaving the manor for the day to give them time together.

All too soon, however, the holidays drew to an end, and their final year at Hogwarts approached. Harry couldn't help but feel dejected about this, something he hid well from Severus, although perhaps not so well from Draco. He didn't really want the summer to end; his time with Severus had been a glimpse for Harry at the life he had been missing out on. He felt that he could very happily stay here with Snape indefinitely. But that wasn't the agreement – they had agreed on a fling and nothing more, and Harry knew he didn't deserve to wish for anymore than that. Still, he dreaded returning to school, where Severus would be just as cut off from his as before. Harry had no idea that similar thoughts were running through Severus' mind, nor did he know that the night Harry and Draco left for Diagon Alley (where they were spending a few days before getting on the train to Hogwarts) Snape got blindingly drunk, just to ignore the emptiness of his house.


	2. Disloyal

**--- Chapter Two ---  
Disloyal**

_Disloyal (adj): untrue to one's allegiance_

Harry was sitting waiting for the start of term feast to end, feeling exhausted. The train ride that day had been a difficult experience, to say the least. Hermione and Ron were most certainly _not_ pleased to be joined in their carriage by Draco Malfoy. They had tried to talk to Harry whilst ignoring Malfoy completely, but soon found that this got them nothing more than a glare from each of the young men, so promptly gave up. The rest of the ride had been spent in uncomfortable silence and needless to say, Harry was extremely relieved when the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade station.

Suddenly, there was the sound of scraping benches all around, dragging Harry back to the present. Apparently the feast had, at long last, ended and the students were now pouring out of the Great Hall. Harry knew better than to try and squeeze through the crowds now, and waited for most of the students to leave the entrance hall before getting up. As he left the doors of the Great Hall, however, he found himself pulled aside. Turning round he came face-to-face with Draco.

"Oi Malfoy, no need to grab."

"Take it like a man, Harry."

After a moment's pause, with Draco looking decidedly shifty, Harry sighed impatiently.

"Did you want me for something?"

Draco, for possibly the first time in his life, looked uncomfortably down at his feet.

"Well, you see the thing is . . . umm . . ."

He just said 'umm', thought Harry. Never in his life had he heard Malfoy being quite so ineloquent; there was obviously something the matter. Deciding not to press him, Harry waited.

"I was wondering," continued Malfoy, ". . . actually you know what, just forget it."

"Like hell, Draco. Tell me what it is." Harry could see Malfoy was a little taken aback by being demanded to do anything; obviously the thought that he was a _Malfoy_ must have crossed his mind. Harry was glad, however, that Draco seemed to be able to control any retort along those lines, although his tone got decidedly harsher.

"Fine Potter, have it your way. Can you check I'm at breakfast tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me."

"…Why the hell would I need to check you're at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Because . . . because I'm worried about what might happen tonight, alright? This is the first time I've been at school since the war ended, and I'm not sure my housemates are going to take too kindly to me fighting on the light side. I just want you to alert someone, Snape probably, if I'm not there tomorrow."

As Draco talked his voice got quieter and quieter, until it was barely more than a whisper. By now, they were the only students left in the entrance hall (and probably the only ones left outside a dorm, at that), so he needn't have worried about being overheard. Harry suspected it had something to do with Draco being more than a little embarrassed of actually asking another human being for help.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" asked Harry, trying and failing to hide the fact that he was beginning to get worried about Malfoy, "You shouldn't be staying in the Slytherin dorms anymore, if you're worried about the consequences."

"It's fine, Potter," snapped Draco, "I don't need you babysitting me, I just need you to do as I asked, ok?"

"At least I can walk you back to the common room, to make sure nothing happens on the way."

"No you bloody can't. Merlin, if I'd known you were this protective I never would have mentioned it."

And with that Draco strode off towards the dungeons, taking it for granted that Harry _would_ do as he asked. Harry watched him go with a sense of foreboding and turned to walk towards Gryffindor tower. He didn't get far though before his instincts won out, and he turned once more to follow Draco.

It wasn't far to the dungeons, and by Harry's guess Draco should have already reached the common room. Still, he thought, there was no harm in checking. As he turned the next corner however, he heard a barely audible gasp of pain. More followed, along with the soft sounds of punches landing. Harry pulled out his wand and ran forwards along the deserted corridor. As he got closer to the end the sounds got louder. The gasps of pain had stopped, to be replaced with low, sinister hisses of 'traitor'. Turning finally into the next corridor he stopped dead in his tracks. Some way ahead of him he could see Crabbe, Goyle and a couple of other Slytherins were taking it in turns to mercilessly kick a crumpled heap on the floor. A crumpled heap with platinum blond hair.

Harry didn't stop to think. He raised his wand arm and fired a jet of stunning spells at each one of the attackers, none of whom had anytime to react, let alone draw a wand. Each fell with a satisfying 'thump' to the floor, as Harry rushed straight over to Draco. The closer he got, the worse it looked. Apparently the four Slytherins had gone for a quick and brutal attack, not giving Draco the chance to even reach for his wand. His face was a bloodied mess, and bruises were already starting to form on his face and arms.

"Draco?"

No response.

Fuck, thought Harry. Crouching down besides the boy, Harry checked for a pulse and signs of breathing. They were there, and fortunately still going strong.

He bound and gagged the persecutors before levitating them into a nearby classroom and locking the door, taking care to bash each one into the door frame. Next he gently levitated Draco off the floor and set off at a sprint towards the Hospital Wing, the unconscious form wavering in front of him.

"Madame Pomfrey?"

The matron was luckily still sorting out supplies for the start of term. She gave a start when her name was called, and turned quickly towards the door.

"Mr Potter, what on earth . . .?"

Her voice trailed away at the sight of Draco, who Harry was in the process of setting down on a bed.

"Dear Merlin, what happened to him?"

Harry didn't answer; he couldn't. He just sat and watched as Poppy ran diagnostic spells over Draco and then ran off, bringing back several different vials of potions with her.

"H-How bad is it?" asked Harry as Madame Pomfrey tipped the vials one by one into Draco's mouth, pulling him up slightly and rubbing his throat to get him to swallow each one.

"He is concussed and has a broken arm and a couple of fractured ribs. He also, as you can see, has massive amounts of bruising."

"Will he be okay?"

"He should be. The potions will go to work immediately on the internal injuries, and I will apply a salve later to clear up the rest of the bruising."

Harry let out a relieved sigh and sat down in a chair beside the bed. Setting down the last empty vial, Madame Pomfrey walked off towards her office. Moments later she came back, joined by Dumbledore and Snape.

"Harry?" came Dumbledore's voice. Harry looked up to see the old man looking grave – the twinkle was definitely lacking in his eyes, "What on earth happened?"

"A bunch of his housemates cornered him and beat him savagely," said Harry, unable to keep the anger from rising in his voice. His voice shook with the effort, "T-They were kicking him like a dog, Professor, and hissing 'traitor' at him."

Madame Pomfrey's hands had flown to her mouth. Dumbledore and Snape did not react outwardly, but the anger radiating off them was more than apparent.

"I've gagged and bound them; they're locked in a classroom down in the dungeons." At this, Snape strode straight out of the Hospital Wing. If looks could kill, thought Harry, those bastards would get exactly what they deserved.

Albus leant over Draco, taking in the sight of the student. "This shouldn't have happened," he stated.

"I tried to stop him, Professor. He said he'd be fine, but I don't think even he expected something like this. We need to move him though – I'm sorry, but there's no way I can let him go back to the Slytherin dorms."

"Absolutely, my dear boy. Although there's very little we can do. The best I can suggest is that you ask Hogwarts for rooms."

Harry took a moment to process what Dumbledore had said. After that moment he was still none the wiser.

"Ask Hogwarts, sir?"

"Yes, Harry. The only way to form new rooms around here is to ask Hogwarts herself for them. I would do it, but I'm afraid I have already asked a lot of her." Dumbledore smiled briefly, before turning back to Draco. "Tell Mr Malfoy that I am truly sorry for this – I should have seen the dangers facing him. Oh, and if you want to remain here for the night, I doubt Madame Pomfrey will mind. Thank you, Harry."

"For what, sir?"

"For putting aside your differences. If you hadn't I very much doubt Mr Malfoy would have been found in time."

And with that Dumbledore swept out of the Wing, no doubt to find Snape, as Madame Pomfrey started applying bruise salve to Draco's face, arms and legs. Harry, for his part, was left trying to work out how exactly you could ask a castle for rooms.

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**AN: **_hope you liked this. please R&R - i live on feedback!_

_Also, if u have some spare time on you hands, i would really appreciate anyone looking at my HPSS poems - it's really difficult to get poems noticed, so i'm just going to shamelessly advertise them on my other fics :D (you can read my other writings too you know!!! they're all just a click away on my profile page :D)_


	3. Back to Normal

[s] ... [/s] denotes strikethrough

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**--- Chapter Three ---  
Back to Normal**

_[s] Normal (adj): free from mental or emotional disorder [/s]_

_Normal (adj): convention_

Harry didn't even try to get to sleep. Firstly, because he doubted he would sleep much on the rickety Hospital Wing chair and secondly because he knew he definitely wouldn't sleep until he had gotten Draco some new rooms. He wanted to go out into the castle and try to ask for the rooms (although he still had very little idea of how to do that), but the thought of leaving Draco alone tonight kept him.

Finally, after ten minutes of silent indecision he set up a shield around Draco's bed that would only permit himself or Madame Pomfrey to get close to the still unconscious form, and left.

He kept to the shadows of the corridors, hoping not to run into any members of staff. He chose the darkest corridors, reasoning that he might be able to avoid detection in the dark. All the while, he thought about how to get the rooms. Should he use magic, or talk aloud to the castle? What exactly did Dumbledore mean about asking Hogwarts; surely he didn't expect Harry to get a reply?

As Harry walked he found that whenever he had to choose between which corridor to go along, one would always be darker than the other. It was weird – Hogwarts was normally lit the same at night – he should know, he'd walked around it enough after curfew. The thought that Hogwarts might be leading him popped up at the back of his mind, but he quashed it. That is, until a wall rose up in front of him.

Harry leapt back, startled. As he did, the wall sank away again. Confused, he edged forward slowly only to find the wall reappear once more. What was going on? He didn't have long to ponder however, as he suddenly felt a . . . a what? It could hardly be called a force, at least not in the physical sense. It was more of a pulse of magic, although there was no-one around him. The pulse pushed at his right shoulder, turning him until he faced the wall on his left. And then, just as suddenly, it stopped. The wall beside him also disappeared.

The thought that this was Hogwarts' doing was inescapable – as he'd already seen, there was no-one around to be causing this. Still, Harry thought it was worth testing out the theory. He turned to his right. Instantly, the wall shot into the air, a little closer than before Harry thought, and the pulse of magic pushed him again. Well, less pushed and more shoved – Hogwarts, it seemed, was getting impatient.

So that left Harry staring at a blank wall, with nowhere to turn. He knew better than to try to make a run for it; he'd probably end up encased actually _within _a wall this time. Also, there was no reason to run away, when the castle was helping him get what he needed. Either that or it was just being a tricksy bastard.

Well, here goes nothing then, thought Harry. Feeling more than a little stupid, he whispered, "Can I have some rooms please?" Quite what he expected to happen, Harry wasn't sure. However, after actually taking the time to talk to a large expanse of stone, he had rather hoped that _something_ would happen. It didn't – castles, it seemed, were disinclined to be that straightforward.

Harry leaned forward, placing his hands on the cool stone in front of him and almost yelped when he felt a sharp jolt of magic in his fingers. This part of the castle seemed to be teeming over with magical energy, and he strongly suspected that this was what Dumbledore had meant by 'Hogwarts'. Still, that could be debated later. Focussing on the tremors of magic running over his hands, he closed his eyes and envisaged the wall sliding apart to reveal a set of rooms behind it. The stone stayed still beneath his touch, but the magic grew around him in a burst, a sudden flash of bright blue firing into his mind. Then it went, receding into the stone to leave it cold and lifeless. Something pushed outwards against the palms of Harry's hands, forcing them away. Slowly, Harry cracked open one eye to find his hands now resting on a heavy-looking wooden door.

Success!

Tentatively, recalling Mr Weasley's words from long ago, Harry opened the door and gasped – it swung open to reveal a large stylish living room, fully furnished. The walls and carpet were cream, contrasting beautifully with the dark wooden furniture, and there was a large window on the far side of the room overlooking the grounds. Harry's eyes moved quickly, taking in the bookcase, sofa and squashy armchairs, before moving onto the many doors leading out of the room. He hurried into the room and walked straight over to the first door, pulling it open to find a modern looking kitchenette, complete with table and chairs. Continuing round Harry found two bedrooms; a large workroom with two desks, another bookcase full of books and an area for potions; a bathroom and a storage cupboard complete with broom holders.

Harry grinned like a maniac as he walked around, hardly daring to believe that he had done this. Although he was a little puzzled as to quite why there was so much space in the quarters – two bedrooms seemed a little excessive. Well, Harry thought, Hogwarts must have designed the rooms like this for a reason.

Casting one last glance around the living room, Harry set up strong wards around all of the rooms, and walked out, closing and locking the door behind him. It was perfect. The rooms were a bit away from any neighbouring classrooms, and helpfully situated between Gryffindor tower and the Great Hall. Harry thought his face might break if he smiled any harder.

"Potter? What on earth are you grinning about?"

Harry whirled around to see Snape come striding along the corridor, robes billowing out behind him.

"New rooms, Professor," replied Harry, gleefully.

Bad move.

The word 'professor' stung Snape – he had gotten so used to Harry calling him Severus now. He felt the anger well up inside of him; he was being an idiot. Obviously the boy would revert back to normal when they got back to school; he should have been prepared for it, but he wasn't. Some part of him had wanted Harry to still call him Severus, wanted everything that entailed too... But that was wishful thinking on Snape's part – it was clear that Harry had already put the summer far behind him.

"New rooms?"

"Yes, for Draco."

"Perhaps you would care to enlighten me, Potter," spat Snape, "as to why exactly you have decided you can just take any rooms you want in the castle and claim them as your own."

"What? I didn't take . . . I asked Hogwarts for these rooms."

"Did you now?" It was true, Snape had never seen that door before, but he wasn't going to let Ha-_Potter _off that easy.

"Yes," said Harry, angrily, unsure as to why Snape was being such a bastard. Sure, after envisioning several scenarios involving the man would throwing himself back at Harry, he had had to admit that that was about as likely as finding a monster Hagrid didn't find adorable. Even so, there was no need for Se-_Snape_ to leap down his throat the instant they got back; clearly the summer had meant nothing to the surly Potions master, which left Harry feeling distinctly used.

"And pray tell me how exactly you did that. I highly doubt that you would have sufficient prowess in charms to be able to conjure these rooms-"

"I told you," hissed Harry, "I asked Hogwarts for them. I put my hands on the wall, thought about the rooms and the door appeared."

"That doesn't explain why you were grinning about it. Unless you were actually proud of yourself for that. Oh bravo, Potter. You 'thought about the rooms', how exceptionally talented of you." Snape turned to his best form of emotional defence – sarcasm. Better by far to be mean and snarky than to let Potter know how much he meant to him.

"Well, if you're so fucking clever, why the hell don't you do it next time?"

With that Harry stormed away down the corridor, feeling certain that, by tomorrow morning, Gryffindor's house points would have taken a rather abrupt nosedive into the minuses.

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The next day loomed, dark and oppressive. Harry could sense it was going to be utterly shit. He had barely slept last night, too incensed by Snape's words, but even after he had finally managed to doze off, he had awoken with a crick in his neck. Bloody chairs; he was _that close _to setting fire to the thing.

On top of everything, Malfoy had yet to wake up, although Madame Pomfrey assured him that it was completely normal; she had been forced to give him a rather large dose of sedative, rather than risk him waking up in pain while his injuries were still healing. She all but threw Harry out of the Wing, promising that he could come back at lunch time if Draco was still out of it.

Grumbling, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall, to find himself on the receiving end of two of the filthiest looks he had ever been given, which was saying something considering he had been on the end of Snape's death glare a fair few times.

"Er, morning?" asked Harry, wondering miserably how much he was going to pay for yesterday's train ride.

Ron ignored him, settling his gaze once more on his food, but Hermione it seemed was not going to give Harry the satisfaction of the silent treatment.

"And where exactly do you think you've been? We waited for ages for you last night."

"Well,-"

"Oh, and don't even get me started on the fact that you haven't spoken to us since you arrived."

"Hey, I-"

"I don't care what you say about Malfoy, there's no need for him to sit with us. He's got his friends, he most certainly doesn't need us."

"Wait a-"

"And while you're at it, perhaps you would care to explain why Gryffindor mysteriously lost sixty points last night."

"Talk about third degree," muttered Ron under his breath, before edging slightly further down the table. Lucky for him, Hermione either didn't hear, or didn't react; not so lucky for Harry though, as she continued glaring at him.

"Listen, before I start explaining everything, yeah, I'm sorry about the train ride, but you _did _ignore Draco completely. Wait . . ." continued Harry, holding his hand up as Hermione opened her mouth to object, "just let me finish first ok? Then you can rip me to shreds or whatever you want. I didn't come to the dorms last night because I was taking Malfoy to the Hospital Wing." That, at least got Ron's attention, who promptly dropped his fork with a clatter onto his plate. "He got attacked by Crabbe and Goyle after the feast."

"So?" interjected Hermione angrily, "He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

"Yeah? You try taking care of _yourself_ when you've got two fractured ribs, a broken arm, concussion and a face that's more bruises than anything else."

"Bloody hell," said Ron helpfully.

"So forgive me, if I felt it prudent to take him to the infirmary. Which I believe makes mincemeat of your 'he's got his own friends' argument; apparently the best he can hope for at the moment is indifference. You forgot, quite conveniently, that a lot of Slytherins hate anyone who fought on our side, least of all someone who they felt betrayed them. As for the house points, I got into a slight argument with Snape in one of the corridors last night. I was getting some rooms for Draco, and he . . . well . . . we had words," finished Harry. He was damned if he was going to explain exactly what the words had been about.

Ever the double act, Ron and Hermione both looked at him with their mouths hanging open. They seemed completely at a loss for what to say, which, for the moment, suited Harry just fine. He reached over and pulled a large tray of bacon towards him.

"Well!" started Hermione once more, "He . . . you . . ."

"Oh for the love of Merlin, Hermione, drop it," Harry smiled gratefully over at Ron, who seemed to be taking everything a lot better than his girlfriend. The war had really broken down Ron's tendency to judge without thinking.

"Ron, you can't really-"

"Seriously, 'Mione. Let it go. Harry's answered all of your questions, which considering the way you asked them was a damn sight more than what I would have done."

You could almost see the battle raging within Hermione's mind. It took her a good minute of glancing furiously from Ron to Harry and back again, before she finally decided against reprimanding either of them. That wasn't to say that she didn't take Ron's last hash brown though.

"Oi! That's . . . oh, forget it."

Hermione smirked.

"I still have one question, Harry. How on earth did you get rooms for Draco? I thought all the rooms had a purpose already."

"I asked Hogwarts for them." If you ever wanted to get back at Hermione, seeming to know more about the castle than she did was probably second thing on the list. Right under actually doing better than her in an exam.

"You did what? You . . . how did you manage that?"

"Simple," quipped Harry, before relenting, "Ok, not simple. Dumbledore told me to do it, and I didn't have a clue what he meant either. But I walked around the corridors for a bit and then the castle kind of guided me. I suppose it was sort of like the room of requirement, except instead of just forming a door for me, Hogwarts threw a bloody great wall up in front of my face."

Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice, and even Hermione couldn't stop a smile from gracing her lips.

"Honestly, I was walking along and this stone wall flew up before me. It went away when I walked back a bit, but it wouldn't let me past, and then there was this sort of . . . push from the castle. It was, I dunno, some sort of magical energy, I suppose, that turned me round to face the side wall."

"Are you sure you weren't just really sleep deprived, Harry?" asking Ron, chuckling at Harry's rather feeble explanation.

"Ha ha, Ron. I didn't imagine it, 'cause I tried turning back round, and the magic kinda shoved me back into place. Tip, by the way, don't try Hogwarts' patience! Anyway, I touched the wall and it was buzzing with magic. I mean, it was almost physically hot beneath my fingers. And then, well I just thought of having some rooms and this door appeared."

"Awesome!"

"Yeah I know, and the rooms are pretty cool too. There's a bathroom and a sitting room and all sorts."

"Ugh, sounds better than our dorms."

"Well, I suppose if you really wanted, I could bash your face in and see what you get!"

"On second thoughts, the common room's lovely. Really great. Yeah, who wants new rooms when you have such an amazing dorm."

Harry and Ron burst out laughing, ignoring Hermione's disapproving frown.

"Oh come on 'Mione, we're joking. Honest," Ron said, nudging her.

"Yeah, I won't beat up Ron. Well, at least I'll try not to . . ."

Hermione's lips quivered once more as her instinct to smile took over, but she still maintained a look of concentration. Harry groaned inwardly, knowing what would come next.

"I'm going to the library at lunch. I want to know more about this, and why it isn't covered in 'Hogwarts, A History'"

Harry hid his grin as Ron rolled his eyes and motioned Avada Kedavra-ing himself, turning away to find Dumbledore twinkling down at him, mouthing 'well done' when Harry looked his way. That man knew _everything_.

_hope you liked it! i, for once, enjoyed writing it! lol_

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AN:

_once again, for BBA readers, the only reason i'm uploading this story is because i have a faint idea as to where it's going! but i will be back to BBA soon! i hope . . . _

_things shud get interesting soon - one more warning for those who have conveniently passed by all of my others. this _will_ be a mpreg in later chapters, ok?_

_review please? u know, i might actually deserve reviews this time, simply because i wrote a long chapter (which, in case you don't already know, i can assure u i hardly ever do):D_


	4. Upset

**--- Chapter Four ---  
Upset**

_Upset (n): disturbance e.g. to composure or digestion_

The next few weeks, as is the custom with the beginning of school, flew by. Draco was overjoyed with the rooms, or at least that's what Harry read into his 'Not bad, Potter. I suppose these should just about do.'

Everything went well; most of the Gryffindors had gotten over the shock of seeing a Slytherin at their table, and ever since Draco had moved into his new rooms there had been no more mishaps with his housemates. Although, that could simply have been because all four of the offending Slytherins had been expelled. In fact, the only thing that was getting to Harry was Snape; he had barely acknowledged Harry's existence since the start of term. Only Draco saw this though; to Ron and Hermione, Snape was just being his usual snarky self.

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"Come on, mate, get a bloody move on. If we're late to breakfast, I won't have time to eat anything," called Ron. He walked to the door of the dorm, then turned, picked up a pillow and tossed it at Harry's head for good measure.

"Go to hell," snapped Harry, although he was already getting resignedly out of bed. He felt pretty awful this morning, and if it wasn't for the fact that Harry still clearly remembered what had happened last time Ron had missed breakfast, he would have quite happily stayed in bed all day. However, he didn't want to see Ron acting like a pissy little girl again, and nor did he want to wake up with marmalade smeared on his face, like what had happened the time before. Perhaps one of Ron's more . . . inventive punishments.

When they finally reached the Great Hall, Harry was feeling decidedly unwell, having run from Gryffindor tower. He was also in a foul mood, for very little reason. But he blamed it all on tiredness and sat down.

"You ok, Harry?" asked Hermione, glancing over at his pale countenance.

"Fuck me, is that Potter?" smirked Draco, "Why, I thought you were a ghost Potter, I do apologize. Did you overdose on the make-up this morning and accidentally turn yourself white?"

"Piss off, Malfoy." Harry was not in the mood for Draco's snarky comments this morning.

"Seriously though Harry, are you feeling ok? You look pretty bad," continued Hermione, after glaring at Draco.

"I'm fine, 'Mione."

"But . . ."

"Give it a rest; I don't need you mothering me the whole time," snapped Harry. It wasn't exactly what he had meant to say, especially when he saw the hurt in his friend's eyes, but it still got him the silence he desired.

An uncomfortable hush settled around the small group. Ron was busy eating and Draco knew better than to get involved in Harry and Hermione's business, so settled his gaze firmly on his plate. Hermione for her part was now doing a good job at pretending Harry didn't exist. It would blow over soon enough, once Harry apologised, but he was damned if he'd do that before he'd eaten. Pulling a dish towards him, Harry helped himself to some scrambled egg. But as soon as the food got near his mouth, he felt undeniably queasy.

He was probably just hungry though; he hadn't eaten all that much yesterday either, so Harry forced himself to eat some of it. Bad move.

Hurrying to his feet, Harry clapped a hand over his mouth and ran from the Great Hall, his friends calling after him. He ran to the nearest bathroom . . . or at least, he would have done had he not run headlong into a large black object in the Entrance Hall outside.

The abrupt stop seemed too much for Harry, who, without warning, vomited down the front of Severus' robes.

"Wh- . . Potter?"

"S-sorry, I-"

Turning away slightly, Harry held the wall beside him and continued heaving his stomach contents over the floor.

With a look of mild annoyance, Snape muttered a cleaning charm over his clothes. Turning to look at Harry, Snape had a strong urge to lean over and help him. His hand stretched out of its own accord, reaching for the boy's shoulder. At that moment, however, Ron, Hermione and Draco all ran out of the hall, searching for Harry. Snape snatched his hand back, as though burned, hoping no-one had noticed the movement.

He sidestepped quickly as Hermione ran straight to Harry and rubbed light, soothing circles on Harry's back, pushing his hair behind his ears. A pang of jealousy shot through Snape, while Draco shot Snape a quizzical look, from eyes which had undoubtedly noticed Snape reaching for Harry. Malfoy knew too much about his godfather to have expected him to _want _to help; there was something strange here, something different. This was the Snape he had seen in the summer; the one that hid behind the mask.

Severus merely brushed him off and, after a moment's hesitation, strode into the Great Hall. Malfoy sighed as he watched his godfather leave, knowing how much Harry would have appreciated Snape staying.

After a few minutes, Harry drew in a shuddering breath, and slowly lifted his head. Draco moved over to mutter a cleaning charm at the floor, and then gripped Harry's forearm tightly as the boy swayed a little. The motion seemed to cause Harry further distress, as he simply leaned forward and retched again. Draco leapt backwards hurriedly, amidst snickers from Ron.

"Ugh. Sorry, Draco," said Harry, after his new wave of sickness had gone, "I don't know what-"

"Shh, it's ok. Just don't target me again in the future, ok?"

At this, Harry managed a weak smile.

"Now," said Hermione, briskly, "Hospital Wing, Harry."

"Wha- no. I'm fine-"

"Come off it, Harry," Ron butted in, "you just threw up. 'Mione's right; you need to go see Madame Pomfrey."

"But I don't want to. I spent enough of my time there last year." Harry realised he sounded like a whiny kid, but he didn't want to go to the infirmary if he could help it. Any more trips there and he'd be given his own bed.

"But Harry, you're-"

"Please, 'Mione. Please don't make me go," pleaded Harry, turning his best puppy-dog-eyes on her.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Oh, ok then. BUT, if you get _any_ worse, you're going tomorrow, even if I have to drag your ungrateful arse there myself. We'll just set you up in Draco's rooms today."

"Sure, lend out my privacy to the sick. What do I care?" grumbled Draco, but he didn't really mind; he just liked to complain.

"Draco! Harry got you those rooms, so it's the least you can-"

"OK, ok," said Draco hastily, raising his hands in defeat. He may have only been on speaking terms with them for a few weeks, but he had already learnt some valuable lessons, one of which being 'never let Hermione get too far in her rants, or she won't stop'. "Come on then, Potter, let's take your delicate digestion over to my rooms, so you can throw up all over my lovely furniture."

"Hey Harry," said Ron, "d'you know why Snape was so pissy this morning?"

"Well . . . I might, possibly, have thrown up on him . . . a little," muttered Harry, embarrassed at the memory. Definitely not the best way of getting Snape to notice him.

"You what? Oh gods, that's brilliant!" Ron collapsed in laughter, holding his sides as he pictured Snape's face. Even Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle.

Harry grinned. In retrospect it was amusing; certainly not something you saw every day. He turned slowly to find Draco shaking with silent mirth – finally, someone had gotten one over on his godfather, and Harry knew Draco would not let Severus forget that.

_**

* * *

**_

**AN: **_ok, i'm too impatient to wait for my BETA-reader to finish reading through this, so i may tweak this chapter later on._

_Anyhoos, hope you liked it, and aren't going to kill me for the fact that Sev and Harry aren't together. It'll get better . . . eventually :D_

_As always, you lovely people, R&R. _

_Oh, and good news BBA readers - i have chapter 14 written, but i need to get it checked through before i can upload it, so it should be up soon. Sorry for the long delay - i've had such a block over that chapter!_

_Well, nevermind about that now, REVIEW!!!! you know you'd just love to!!_


	5. Lesson

**--- Chapter Five ---  
Lesson**

_Lesson (n):_ _a thing learned or to be learned_

None of Harry's friends realised that he continued to be ill every morning after that. Of course, there was little chance of Hermione and Draco finding out, seeing as they slept in different rooms to Harry. Ron on the other hand had no excuse, other than the worst timing known to mankind. There were several occasions where, had he woken up just moments earlier, he would have heard Harry retching. But Harry took care not to wake him up as he stumbled blindly towards the bathroom each morning. He didn't need to be sent to the infirmary by Hermione, and anyway the sickness usually abated by mid-morning.

Still, however much Harry tried not to draw attention to himself, he couldn't stop Hermione from glancing worriedly at him as he picked at his food, his face pale and drawn in the mornings. Only Draco noticed similar looks of concern being shot at Harry by a certain Potions master, but then again, he was the only one looking.

* * *

One Saturday afternoon in early November, two weeks later, found Harry and Draco walking in to the library. Harry had, rather reluctantly, been dragged there to help Draco with his Muggle Studies essay. Draco had gotten permission from Dumbledore to take an OWL in Muggle Studies, along with the rest of his NEWTs. Finally getting away from his father's grasp had revealed Draco to have a far more open mind than you might at first think.

"So what are we actually looking for, Malfoy?"

"I've got to find something interesting to write about from a Muggle's point of view. Something really unfamiliar to Muggles, that wizards take for granted."

"And remind me why I'm here again."

"Because you luuurve me."

Harry turned round to thump Malfoy squarely in the arm.

"Ow. Bloody Gryffindors . . . OW! You didn't have to hit me twice, you know," whined Draco.

"I think you'll find I was legally bound to, to defend my house's honour," smirked Harry.

"Pfft. Anyway, I'm going to give you a list of things that I think would be good, and I'll see how you react to them. If you gasp or faint like a girl then I'll pick that one."

This time Draco ducked in time to miss the arm that came swinging at him. Unfortunately he was a little unprepared when it came to the leg that kicked his shin viciously.

"Shit!"

"I do _not_ faint like a girl, Malfoy."

"I'll agree with that for the sake of my remaining limbs. Right now, let's see. What about Dementors?"

"Nah, too easy. Plus Muggles can't see them, so they really wouldn't give a damn about them."

"Fine. Umm, magical creatures? Dragons and hippogriffs and the like."

"Yeah, because you're such an expert on hippogriffs, aren't you?"

"Fuck off, Potter. This isn't easy. Besides I think you'll find I refrained from making any comment regarding the Dementors. At least one of us has manners," Malfoy's sweeping statement was somewhat belittled by him sticking his tongue out at Harry, managing, somehow, to look scathing at the same time.

"It's not my fault that Dementors always seem to be after me. At least I don't go out of my way to antagonize them . . ."

This was an argument that had raged many a time between the two, and yet had never fully been resolved. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it was simply because Draco liked the conflict too much to just concede the point.

"Oh…screw you, Harry," said Draco, with a certain eloquence, "So, why don't I just do magic and spells?"

"Excuse me a moment while I . . ." Harry pretended to stifled a yawn, ". . . fall asleep." He closed his eyes and started to snore. Draco flexed his fingers before tugging sharply on his hair, receiving a yelp for his efforts and an annoyed 'Shhhhh' from Madam Pince.

"Come on," whispered Harry, "you've got to think of something better. Think of what's not just beyond a Muggle's wildest dreams, but something that they've actually dismissed as impossible."

"What, like wizard pregnancies?"

"Precisely like . . . WHAT?" Harry almost shouted, before remembering the extremely strict woman standing somewhere in the room. Wizards could get pregnant?

"You know, wizards and babies and . . . you really don't know?"

Harry cursed silently in his mind. Surely the way he'd been feeling recently . . . he couldn't possibly . . .

"No, of course not, you berk. You think I go round looking stunned for my own amusement?" he snapped, trying to get rid of the feeling of fear niggling at him.

"Well, that's my topic sorted, then. C'mon, let's get some books on it."

"Wait. Tell me about it first," said Harry, trying to sound simply curious (and feeling more than a little apprehensive), "You know . . . to see if the idea would _actually_ be interesting."

"Well, it's pretty much the same as usual. The wizard in question gets morning sickness-"

_Check _thought Harry despondently.

"-dizzy spells-"

_Check_

"-mood swings-"

_Check_

"-and all the rest. It's fairly normal as far as it goes, except that it happens to men instead of women, because of some sort of magical energy – I don't remember what it is, but I'll find out. Oh, and it can happen to any guy, as long as they're above the age of fifteen."

That was pretty much all Harry needed to hear, as he keeled over silently onto the floor.

* * *

Waking up to a smug Draco is not really the greatest experience in the world.

"What was that you said? 'I don't faint like a girl'? Like hell, Potter."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," said Harry with as much composure as he could, whilst lying flat on his back on the library floor.

"Language, Mr Potter!"

"Sorry Madam Pince."

"Right," said Draco, stifling a snigger, "Up you get." He reached down and pulled Harry to his feet. As soon as he was up, Harry then began to sway precariously on the spot. "Woah, careful Harry. Do you need to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine," snapped Harry, blinking rapidly to focus his eyes again, "Can we leave please? We've got to go do something important, I believe."

"We have? Ok, whatever. Let's go."

Once outside the library, Harry turned to Draco, looking a little ashen. "Am I right in thinking you just told me that wizards could get pregnant? Wizards? As in men?"

"Yes," said Draco slowly, as thought talking to a particularly dense child, ". . . is that what got to you?"

"Umm, kind of, I suppose."

"Are you really sure you're okay, Potter? You've been looking a little peaky recently, and you seemed quite dizzy . . ." Draco trailed off, his mouth hanging open, reality hitting him hard.

"Attractive as always, Malfoy," quipped Harry, sounding a lot more in control than he felt.

"Y-You're not . . .you don't think you're . . . are you?"

"N- . . . I . . . don't know," sighed Harry, resignedly. This was not something he'd ever thought about. Just admitting that he thought there might be even the faintest chance that he _was_ pregnant was downright terrifying. "Is there some way we can, you know, do a test or something. Without involving other people."

Silence greeted this question, before Draco mentally shook himself and started walking down the corridor, dragging Harry towards his rooms.

"Come on, this'll take a bit of time."

* * *

"So what do I do with this, Malfoy?" Harry looked warily at the potion Draco had spent an hour brewing. It looked ominous.

"You just touch the liquid in the cauldron. Quite simple really, although you wouldn't think that if you'd just heard yourself asking me five times about it."

"Hah hah, very funny. Forgive me if I'm a little distracted at the moment. Besides, how do I know this isn't poisonous? On second thoughts," continued Harry quickly as Draco opened his mouth, "forget it; I don't want a potions lesson on how to identify poisons. So I touch it and wait, and then-"

"Green is positive, clear is negative. Get on with it already," snapped Draco.

Harry shot him a death glare before placing his fingertip lightly to the cool liquid beneath him. Then he turned away, staring at the wall.

"I can't look," he whispered, "Tell me when it's done."

The seconds dragged by, but even so, it was too short a time for Harry's liking before he felt Draco's hand on his shoulder. No quips or jokes or smart-ass comments. Harry turned nervously around to be pulled into a rough, and unexpected, hug by the boy. Over his shoulder, Harry could quite clearly make out the green glow of the potion.

Shit.

_**

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**_

AN:

grins gleefully - this is one of the first scenes i wrote, and i've been waiting to upload it! 

_Draco/Harry banter :D_

_lol, well, i hope you all like it. what will happen now? what will Harry do? comments and suggestions are always welcome, and as always, please review "cos u luuuuurve me" :D_


	6. Unnatural

**--- Chapter Six ---  
Unnatural**

_Unnatural (adj): i) contrary to nature; not normal  
__ii) speaking or behaving in an artificial way_

"Oh gods! Oh, this isn't happening."

Harry sat on the sofa, his fingers firmly entwined in his hair. Draco was being uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed he had very limited experience of how to deal with emotions. Or people. Or people with emotions . . . hell, he had very little experience of anything vaguely human. He might also have been in a state of shock over that fact that he had initiated a hug.

After looking shiftily around the room, as though expecting a rescue party to dash out from under a chair and save him from having to deal with this situation, Draco's eyes fell back on Harry. The other boy was now rocking slightly, his eyes fixed on the potion. A faint murmur of 'shit, shit, shit' was issuing from his mouth.

Finally, Draco stood and waved his wand to clear the potion away; the green glare coupled with the penetrating stare from Harry was giving him a headache. Of course, as soon as he moved, the aforementioned stare was directed straight at him. Fucking brilliant; now he'd have to say something.

"Uh, i-it'll be ok, Harry."

"What? 'It'll be ok'? Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?"

"It was worth a shot," muttered Draco darkly.

"What am I going to do? What the bloody hell am I going to do now?"

To Draco's horror he could see tears welling up in Harry's eyes. With every fibre of his being screaming mutinously at him, Draco moved closer to Harry, and slowly reached out to touch his shoulder.

Throwing the hand off, Harry withdrew into the sofa, curling his feet up beside him and turning his head away. Draco would have liked to say that he was relieved, but he wasn't. He needed to help Harry, Merlin knows why. Perhaps because Harry was the first person to reach out to Draco after the war.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. I don't need your pity."

This was his chance to escape. His mind was telling him to run, but in a half-hearted way.

"No."

Draco jumped nervously as Harry thumped the arm of the sofa.

"Just fuck off, ok? I'll sort this out myself."

By this point, Draco's mind had given up its futile efforts to get him to leave. Still, he was surprised to find himself sitting down on the sofa beside Harry, and even more so to find that he had some idea of what to do.

With difficulty, he pulled Harry away from the arm of the sofa, though his face was still resolutely tilted to the side. From Draco's viewpoint, he could just about see that Harry had managed to control his tears for the moment, for which he was grateful. He definitely wasn't ready to face someone crying.

"Harry," he said softly, whilst tightening his hold slightly on the other boy's forearm. He could feel Harry trying to pull away, but that was not going to happen.

"Listen to me. It'll be ok. It really will. You have . . . options, don't you?"

Harry's face turned a fraction of an inch towards Draco.

"You don't have to do anything right now. You just need to sit and think, and you can decide later. You don't even have to move; I don't mind you staying here for a while."

There was still silence, but Harry's shoulders slumped, his posture decidedly more relaxed. Feeling pretty certain that Harry would be ok for a few minutes on his own, and that he wouldn't bolt, Draco stood, releasing the forearm that he was still grasping.

"D-don't go," whispered Harry.

"I'll be back in a minute. Just sit there and don't move."

Draco swept off into the kitchen. Once inside, he closed the door and drew in a deep breath, before allowing a small smile to grace his lips. Not a smirk, an actual smile; he'd done it. He'd stayed, and not run away.

Carelessly, he flicked his wand around the kitchen, filling two cups with hot chocolate, before walking back into the sitting room with them.

The dark-haired wizard looked suspiciously at the mugs being set on the low coffee table, before looking up slightly to see Draco pulling a strand of silver blond hair from his head. Bemused, Harry watched as Draco transfigured the hair into a soft blanket, which he promptly tossed over Harry.

As he opened his mouth to question Draco, one of the mugs was pushed into his grasp, before the boy sat down on the coffee table opposite Harry.

Draco's lip twitched in amusement as Harry looked into his mug, confusion registering on his features.

"It's hot chocolate, Potter. People tend to drink it, rather than gaze at it."

Harry shot Draco a withering look, before taking a small sip. It was perfect, but then Malfoy never could resist showing off.

"Before you ask, this is what my mother used to do when I was ill."

"I'm not ill," stated Harry defiantly. Draco could see the internal battle raging, as one part of Harry decided that he was damned if he needed help, and another part wanted to just give up and let someone else take control.

"No, but you're in shock. So just stop trying to keep up a brave face and let me take care of you for a while, ok? Oh and I must warn you that if you let Ron know I have a kind side, I will be forced to severely injure you."

Harry managed a small chuckle, which Draco took as a victory. It was something, at any rate.

The two boys sat in silence for a while, sipping carefully on their drinks. They made a peculiar picture, facing each other, looking like polar opposites. One dark, one light.

Draco's mind wandered off, thinking about what would have to happen now. Wondering when he should next bring up Harry's . . . issue. He didn't want to force Harry to talk about it but equally he couldn't let the boy leave until they had resolved it partway. Much as Harry acted like a lone ranger, Draco knew he needed all the support he could get.

"Why did you stay, Draco? You're not too good with this sort of scene, are you?"

"Gee, thanks Harry. I tried my best you know."

"I didn't mean it like that; you've been great. I just meant that . . . well, you're not _comfortable _with anything emotional."

Damn, thought Draco, he knows me too well. It had been years since Draco had been as intimate with someone as he was now. He had told Harry that his mother used to look after him when he was ill, but that had been when Draco was five. His mother had grown apart from him with each passing year, as had his father. Neither of them really got into the whole 'parenting' thing, although at least his mother had tried for the first few years.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. To be honest, I don't know why I stayed. My mind was screaming at me to run as fast as I could, but I just . . . couldn't leave you like this. Plus, these _are_ my rooms," said Draco, trying to sound as indignant as possible.

"Aha, I knew it; you're still there beneath this nice exterior. Thank heavens; I was worried for a moment."

Laughing softly for a while, they eventually lapsed back into a slightly tense silence. One of them would have to speak up soon, the only question was who?

"Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"What do I do now?"

"Tell Ron and Hermione. They'll be much better at this than I am."

"I don't want to. Not until I've decided whether I want to . . . if I . . ."

"If you want to keep the baby?" asked Draco quietly, not quite able to look Harry in the eye as he did so.

After a long pause, Draco finally heard a timid question that almost knocked him off the table, "What would you do?"

He was stunned. No-one had ever really valued his opinion before. His parents had never listened to him, and Crabbe and Goyle just did his bidding. Not one person in his life had ever asked him that question, which left him more than a little unprepared

"What does it matter what I would do, Harry? This is for you to decide."

"I want to know, Draco. Just tell me please."

Taking his eyes off his feet, Draco looked up into Harry's emerald gaze. In that moment, he could swear that it had a penetrating quality to rival even Dumbledore's.

"I would keep it."

Harry let out the breath he had been holding. Then, slowly, he unwound himself from the blanket and stood up.

"I'm going to go think about it somewhere, ok?"

"Sure. I'm not your keeper Harry. You take as long as you want. Although my 'not being a bastard' rubs off in about twenty minutes."

"I think I'll live, Malfoy. Besides, reality would probably collapse if you kept the act up for too long." Harry smirked, walking to the door. As he reached it though, he swung round, "Hey, can I stay here tonight? On the sofa or something – I just don't want to face anyone quite yet."

"Lucky for you this is a Hogsmeade weekend then, eh? Lucky too, that I have no other friends to go with, or you would have been alone. And yeah, you can stay here in the other bedroom. Good job you went power crazy when you created the rooms."

"I told you, it was Hogwarts' fault."

"Whatever Harry. Go on, clear off."

"Oi, Malfoy."

"What?"

"Thanks . . . for everything," and with that Harry swept out of the room.

* * *

Harry shivered subconsciously as he walked down the deserted corridors.

_Or you would have been alone._

He couldn't bear the thought of that anymore; Draco had no idea how much those words had scared him. What would have happened if he had found out alone about wizard pregnancies? If he'd had no one to talk to, would he have been able to think rationally about this?

Shifting his pace to clear his thoughts, Harry set off towards the main doors of the castle, striding out into the chilly grounds. As always, Harry's feet led him down to the lake. It was the one place he could think clearly.

Picking up stones as he went along, Harry fell back into one of his old traditions. One that had helped him with all sorts of decisions along the way, from which NEWTs to take, to what presents to buy his friends at Christmas. Admittedly, it had never been used for something so life changing as this.

Dividing the stones equally between his pockets, Harry stopped at the edge of the lake.

His right side would be for keeping the baby, and left for not. One stone, one reason. It was as simple as that. Quite literally weighing up the pros and cons.

He drew in a deep, cold breath of air and began.

He was still at school.

Drawing a stone from his left pocket he tossed it in the lake with a splash.

It was a defenceless child.

Right side.

He would have to juggle schoolwork and pregnancy.

Left side.

There was no danger hanging over him now that Voldemort was gone.

Right side.

He was too young.

Left side.

He would have support from Draco.

Right side.

He couldn't expect any help from Severus.

Left side.

It was Severus' child.

Right side.

He would be a single father.

Left side.

He would be a father.

Right side.

He would have a family.

Right side.

It was his child.

Harry threw the last stone from his right pocket, watching the ripples slowly cross the surface of the lake.

* * *

Severus threw his quill down in frustration, ink splattering across his pile of marking.

It was getting too much for him. Seeing Harry every day, unable to do more than smirk threateningly at him. All he wanted was to talk to him, to smile or laugh with him but he couldn't. If he stopped ignoring Harry, he'd be unable to stop himself from wanting more. More than just a summer's fling. And that was impossible.

Still, it was driving him insane. Knowing that Harry was so close, and yet so unattainable. He may have enjoyed himself over the summer, but what were the chances of him sparing more than a second's thought on what was nothing more than memories now? Two months on, Potter had probably already forgotten most of it.

Growling softly, Severus stood up and slammed his door open, setting off for a walk into the grounds.

* * *

Harry was still absent-mindedly throwing stones into the lake. This would be a huge undertaking, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew that this _was_ what he wanted. He had known that from the time Draco had said 'I'd keep it'. It was difficult not to realise how much he wanted the baby after that; he had been so scared that Draco would tell him to get rid of it.

However, it was still going to be one hell of a journey from now on. Harry had just assumed that he would be able to stay at Hogwarts, but what if that wasn't possible? Should he tell Dumbledore, or Madame Pomfrey and risk getting told to leave? Could he keep it a secret?

More importantly, would he tell Severus?

"Fuck," muttered Harry, hurling a stone as far as he could.

He couldn't really waltz up to Snape and say 'Hey, I know you agreed to a summer fling, but I'm pregnant so it turns out it's going to be a little more life-changing than you wanted.'

"Fuck!"

It seemed a little bizarre that deciding on whether to tell Snape was a harder decision than whether to keep the baby.

His teeth chattering from the cold, Harry turned to walk back to the castle. His eyes trailed wearily along the ground; it had been a long day, and all Harry needed was to sleep.

Fate was not on his side, deciding instead to send a certain Potions master into Harry's way. They both reached the doors at the same time, and each had a look of horror on their face at the sight of the other.

"Potter?"

"Snape?"

"You're not at Hogsmeade then?"

"Didn't feel like it," mumbled Harry, turning his eyes down to his feet once more. He couldn't shake off the idea that it was more than just coincidence that he should run into Snape now.

"I want to talk to you actually," said Harry, looking shifty and uncomfortable.

Shit, thought Snape, here it comes. He could almost hear the words 'it was a mistake' already.

"Well . . ." started Harry, but Snape cut across his words, before he could finish. He didn't need to hear Harry say it aloud, just knowing that he felt that way was bad enough for Severus.

"I understand. I don't want any repercussions from the summer either. And I won't tell anyone. It's probably better we just forget it; I mean, it was just a fling, right?"

Harry could have broken down right there on the steps to the castle. Instead, his eyes cold and hard, he just said coolly, "Yeah, great," before stepping past Snape and striding off to Draco's rooms.

* * *

"D-Draco?" The question rang through the empty sitting room.

Draco cast a warming charm on the plates he had just got from the house-elves, then walked out of the kitchen, wondering whether Harry had sorted any of his thoughts out. Draco had been thinking hard since the boy had left, about what Harry would do. Especially about Severus, and whether Harry would tell him, regardless of what he decided.

As soon as he was in the sitting room, he sensed something was wrong. Harry was sitting on the sofa with his back to Draco, his head bowed to his lap.

"Hey, what is it?"

"Severus. H-he 'doesn't want any repercussions from the summer'."

It was whispered so quietly that Draco prayed nervously that he hadn't heard that right.

"What?"

Harry turned around to look straight at Draco, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"He said we should just forget about it, about the summer and everything."

"He probably didn't mean it like that," said Draco, wondering how else he could mean it.

"I was so wrong about him," said Harry, his voice gradually getting louder and angrier, "I actually believed he might care a little, despite ignoring me." Unable to stay seated, Harry got suddenly to his feet, pacing up and down the room.

"I thought he was just keeping up a fucking charade, so no-one would know about us. Or, heaven help me, maybe even just so that he didn't have to risk getting to close, in case everything started again, but I screwed up. He never gave a shit about me did he? He said 'it was just a fling'. That's all it ever meant to him; I was an idiot to ever hope otherwise."

"Oh gods, Harry."

It was all Draco's brain could come up with, as Harry covered his face and turned away.

Not knowing what to do for the second time that day, Draco simply acted on instincts. Moving quickly over to the boy, he stood behind him, about to reach out for his shoulder once again. Before he could do that though, Harry whirled around and flung himself at Draco's neck, breaking down completely and sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

Oh fucking hell, thought Draco. Severus would pay for this, for everything he said, because Draco knew him too well to think that he had actually meant it. No, this was another of his godfather's defenses; hurt people before they could get too close to you. But it wasn't enough this time.

Draco could remember the summer so clearly, the way Severus had laughed and smiled with such ease. He'd never seen his godfather so . . . happy, in all his life. And for once, he would not let Snape throw it all away on a whim, simply because he couldn't cope with needing someone.

For now though, he had an overly emotional boy to look after.

_**

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**_

AN:

please don't hurt me! to be fair, i was going to leave u after i'd written the bit with Severus, so u should be glad i gave u a little bit more and didn't leave such a cliffy, right?

_lol, ah well, hope you liked it._

_now what was that word i was thinking of? rebuw? heview? remuu? ohh . . . _

_REVIEW please! lol, u know u really want to tell how amazing i am for writing SUCH a long chapter :D_


	7. Confront

**--- Chapter Seven ---  
Confront**

_Confront (vb): i) face in hostility or defiance  
__ii) bring of a person face-to-face with a circumstance_

Draco woke early the next morning to the sound of a bathroom door being opened hurriedly, and quiet footfalls. Confused, he sat up wondering who it was and why they were sneaking around in his rooms. He didn't have long to ponder though, before he heard the unmistakeable sounds of retching. _Harry? _Leaping from his bed, Draco rushed across the sitting room, to find a shaking form leaning over the toilet.

"What the fuck, Potter?" Then it hit him. "Morning sickness?"

Somehow, Harry managed to nod slightly.

"This has been happening since that time you were ill at breakfast hasn't it?"

Another subtle but unmistakable nod.

Draco shook his head sadly, wondering how Harry had managed to keep this from his ever-prying friends. And _why_ he had done it. "You stupid bastard. You should have told someone."

This time Harry was too engrossed in throwing up everything he had ever thought of eating to respond. He did murmur gratefully, however, when he was passed a cool flannel. Finally, as the sickness abated, he pushed himself back to sit against the side of the bath, the flannel draped across his face.

"How're you feeling?"

"Peachy, Draco. This is my idea of bliss."

"You have some pretty screwed ideas, Potter."

The flannel was lifted slightly, giving Draco a good look at the glare being thrown his way.

"Ok, it was a crap question."

"You think?" muttered the damp cloth.

"Have you thought about . . . anything yet?"

"Yeah; I'm gonna tell Ron and Hermione."

Draco didn't miss the implication of that statement, "Does that mean that you've decided on . . . you know?"

"Uh huh."

"I guess, after Severus and everything, the choice was kind of made easy for you," said the strangely despondent Slytherin.

"I'm keeping it, Draco."

"You don't have to," said Draco after a moment's silence.

The cloth was drawn down off Harry's tired features, as green eyes stared straight into silver. "I _want _to."

Draco could have continued his supportive streak, but somehow mocking people always seemed much more appealing, "Forgive me. I was just a little concerned, what with that impressionable young mind of yours . . ."

"Poor little delusioned Draco," said Harry, shaking his head sadly, "You really think you have that much power over my thoughts?"

"I . . . uh . . ."

"Oh well, with an argument like that I must have been a fool to think otherwise."

Smirking, Harry stood up, ready to brush past Draco. Of course, he hadn't reckoned on the further wave of sickness that hit him when he got to his feet. "Fuck," he muttered, crouching down once more.

"I win the argument by default, Potter."

"Do I look like I give a shit?"

"You look like shit, does that count?"

"Don't forget; I still have the ability to throw up on you."

Eyeing Harry carefully, Draco conceded the point. "Touché," he said, mustering an air of elegance around him, before sweeping out of the bathroom.

"Tosser," called Harry.

Taking a deep breath he stood, fighting against the dizziness that accompanied the seemingly simple task. Then he walked out into the sitting room, dreading the day ahead of him – this would not go down well with Ron and Hermione, and would no doubt lead to awkward questions about the other father. Awkward, simply because Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to answer them.

Deciding to use his eyes for something other than just gazing blankly ahead of himself, Harry honed in on the figure walking past him. "Oi, where are _you_ going?"

"To talk to Severus."

"Oh hell no."

"Wh-?"

"You can't breathe a word of this to him, understand?"

"In case you've forgotten, Potter, he teaches you Potions. You'll have to tell him soon anyway; have you any idea how many Potions are harmful to you now?"

"Fuck," muttered Harry.

"Precisely," said Draco smugly.

"Well, you still can't tell him."

"Did you listen to a word I said?"

"Ha ha, Draco – I'm not a complete idiot. I just mean that _you _can't tell him. I will, eventually."

"Before your next Potions lesson . . . tomorrow?"

"Double fuck."

Draco coughed, a cough that sounded strangely like 'memory like a sieve'.

"Screw you, Malfoy."

"What? I didn't say anything."

Harry was too tired to even glare. "Fine, I'll tell him before the lesson tomorrow, just don't tell him yet, ok? Why are you going anyway?"

"I thought beating the living daylights out of him for being such an arse might be an idea."

There was a non-committal shrug from the dark-haired boy, who was obviously not entirely against the idea. He has it coming to him, mused Harry.

"What? No pleas of 'have a care, Draco'?"

No answer.

"It really got to you, didn't it? What he said."

"No."

There was no feeling in the monosyllabic answer, but Draco knew what that meant. It meant Severus had a lot to answer for.

* * *

Severus was sitting in his favourite armchair, reliving, with a sense of shame and regret, what had happened the day before, when a form cut into his thoughts. An irate godson to be precise.

"Oi, I want to talk to you." As he said this, a figure in an invisibility cloak crept up outside the door, listening intently.

"Do you now, Draco? Is this going to be one of those infuriating times where I actually have to listen to you?" asked Severus, standing slowly to look the boy straight in the eye.

"You want him back."

"… Do I get a prize if I guess the hidden meaning?"

"Harry – you want Harry back, but you won't say so."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, don't pretend you didn't. I know what you said to him yesterday, and I also know that it's utter bollocks."

"You seem to know too much for your own good, Draco, but your surmises are incorrect. I'm feeling generous today, so I shall set you right. I do _not _want Harry back. Quite what gave you-"

"You can lie to yourself, but don't think you'll get away with doing the same to me. I've known you my whole life, Severus, and I know that you never let anyone get close to you. Some sort of twisted little defense mechanism of yours."

"Listen to me, you arrogant little shit," hissed Snape, incensed, "You think you know everything, but you don't have a clue about my feelings. Potter means nothing to me; as I told him, he was nothing more than holiday amusement to me. If you want to see something that's not there, go ahead, but don't bring me into your wild fantasies."

A tear slipped down Harry's cheek, which he brushed fiercely away. He didn't need to hear all this again. As quietly as he could, he got up and ran away, ripping off his cloak as he went.

Meanwhile, Draco's eyes blazed like liquid fire. "Fucking hell, how obtuse _are _you? Do I have to beat some sense into you?"

Severus' previous anger dissipated, as he threw his head back and laughed. Draco watched him patiently. "Well done, Draco," chuckled Snape, wiping a tear from his eye as he finally quieted down, "That's the most I've laughed since the su-. . . well, for a while." He gave another bark of laughter.

"Finished?" asked the younger wizard, stepping closer to the man before him. It was a rhetorical question, and Draco didn't hesitate before pulling his fist back and punching Snape straight in the jaw. Within seconds, Snape was sprawled across the sofa, with Draco standing above him, his wand pointing straight at his godfather's throat. "What are you so fucking afraid of?" spat the boy. "The world won't stop spinning if you admit that you need someone."

Snape drew a long finger up to touch his bleeding lip.

"I don't care what you say," continued Draco, his voice low and dangerous, "If it was only yourself that you were hurting, I wouldn't hesitate to leave you alone with a large bottle of fire-whiskey and your pathetic lies. But have you any idea what your words meant to Harry? He doesn't expect you to swear undying love for him, but to say that he was nothing more than a fling to you . . ." Draco stopped, breathing heavily.

Finally recovering complete control of his motor functions, Snape flicked the wand out of his way and sat up. "You should learn to think before you speak, Draco." He sighed, looking intently at the boy who was near enough to a son to him. It was as though he was sizing him up, before continuing. "Have it your way; Harry does mean something to me. How can he not – we fought side by side in the war. I've known him for six years, helping him and protecting him. But, before you strode you cocky little self in here and accosted me, did you ever stop to imagine _why_ I have to let him go?"

"…"

"I thought not. Use that brain of yours for once in a while, and consider this. Not only am I more than twenty years his senior, but I am his teacher. It's not right for me to continue this, especially at school."

"Do you think he cares?"

"No, but _I_ do. I don't want to have to compete with students for his affections, always conscious of the fact that he will wake up one day and realise that he's been wasting his time with me. I don't want him to feel any obligation to me and I don't want to be around when he gets embarrassed of me."

"But the holidays. . ."

Severus sighed deeply, "Give me some credit. I _know_. I know what they meant to me – I don't need you to try and express that with your usual ineloquence. It doesn't change the facts, nor does it give me any reason to believe that anyone could feel the same way about me."

"You're just trying to save yourself from having emotions,"

"I'm trying to save _him_. Now, I suggest you forget your idiotic romantic notions and get the hell out of my sight. I would not advise crossing my path again today," said Snape. His voice was cold and dangerous, sending chills down Draco's spine. Probably best, he decided, not to push this anymore . . . for the time being at least.

* * *

As Draco walked back to his rooms, he saw a familiar pair ahead of him.

"Hey," he called.

"Hey Draco. You seen Harry? He wasn't around yesterday."

"Oh . . . um, yeah. He stayed over last night."

Hermione and Ron shared a puzzled look. "Why?" asked Ron eventually.

Shite, thought Draco. "Umm, well . . ."

"Ohhh," breathed Hermione, her eyes going wide.

It took Draco a moment to think about what he'd said, or moreover, what he hadn't. "Gods no. I mean, not that he's not . . . but I'm not . . ."

"It's ok, Draco. It's not like it's illegal,"

This was turning into a decidedly embarrassing situation. Luckily for Draco, Ron had yet to cotton on. "It's not what you think. We didn't . . . ugh, just talk to him ok? He's still in the rooms, I hope." Deliberately not looking at Hermione, Draco walked down the last corridor to his rooms, opening them up. "Harry, I think you need to tell them."

The boy in question shot a questioning look at Draco (who returned it when he saw Harry's slightly red eyes), before spying his two best friends entering the rooms behind. His mouth fell open slightly, then he turned back to look accusingly at Draco. "What did _you_ tell them?"

"Nothing much, I promise. It's just, well . . . Hermione now thinks something may have happened between us last night – I told them you stayed here."

There was a gasp from behind Draco, signaling Ron's sudden realisation. "Urrgh," said the red-head, shuddering.

"We didn't," said Harry hastily.

"Honestly, we don't mind, Harry. Admittedly it's a little weird that it's Draco, but . . ."

"Please Hermione, _please_ stop. I do _not_ need those images, no offence Draco."

"None taken. I'm too busy trying not to be ill."

"So you two didn't-"

"STOP," called Ron, "Just stop, 'Mione, please," he pleaded.

Fighting his mental images, Draco pulled himself together, purely to say, "What's the matter, Weasley? Can't handle this topic? You know it's perfectly natural for two guys, such as myself and Harry, to wish to engage in . . ."

"For the love of all that is good, do not finish that sentence, Draco," shot Harry, "Besides, I don't think you get to lecture on naivety, when your own sexual experience consists entirely of wistfully recalling that time when Ginny-kind-of-looked-at-you-but-may-have-been-glancing-at-the-wall-instead . . . oh shit." Harry had suddenly remembered Ron's presence.

"When . . . my sister . . .?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Fuck you Harry," muttered Draco, not taking his eyes off the boy now glaring daggers at him.

"You . . . MY SISTER?"

"Ron, he hasn't done anything. He just likes her that's all," stated Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Oh, kill me now." Draco, for once, wished he could just sink into the floor.

"He _just_ likes her? He's been watching her, hasn't he?" Ron looked murderous. He started towards Draco, but Harry threw an arm out in front of him.

"Stop it. There's nothing wrong with him liking Ginny. In fact they'd probably be perfect together, seeing as she's one of the few girls I can see actually putting Draco down a peg or two,"

"Hey!"

"Not now, Draco."

"I don't care Harry, it's _my sister_. Let go of me." Ron pushed Harry roughly aside, lunging forwards at Draco. Neither boy had the time to draw their wands, opting instead for the more primitive option of punching the shit out of each other.

"Harry, do something," squealed Hermione.

Without a second's thought, Harry jumped on top of Ron, pulling him back as best he could.

"Gerroff me, Harry," shouted Ron, still trying to throw punches at Draco, despite Harry tugging desperately at his limbs.

Draco's eyes widened in horror as he took in Harry being thrown around on Ron's back.

"Fucking hell, Harry. GET OFF HIM!"

A momentary flash of confusion passed across the boy's features, as his grip loosened slightly. Draco watched in slow motion as Ron took the opportunity to shake Harry violently from him. The shorter boy stumbled to the side, his footing giving way. In a split second, the silver haired boy threw himself behind Harry, ducking the Ron's arm as it swung at his head once more. The air left Draco's lungs in a rush as Harry fell on top of him. His breath short, he thought he heard a 'stupefy' issue from beside him.

The weight on top of him lifted, allowing him to breathe more normally.

"Draco? Draco, are you ok?" There were hands shaking him gently. Reluctantly, he turned over. He gasped as his bruised hip was crushed into the floor. The air caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

"Harry, pull him up." Desperately stuggling to take in air, Draco swiped angrily at the hand pulling his wrist. Hermione's voice cut across the air once more, "Merlin Harry, help him!"

"I'm trying."

Harry reached out again, trying to pull Draco up by his shoulders. The pale boy lashed out, slapping Harry straight across the face.

"Fucking hell!"

Draco said nothing – he couldn't. He just rolled back over onto his front, coughing for all he was worth. It took a few moments for the coughs to subside, during which time Draco thought he heard footsteps coming closer. Probably Hermione; where Ron was, Draco had no idea, but he was glad that he was being left alone for the moment.

Eventually, Draco pushed himself onto all fours, before getting up and turning slowly to face Harry. The boy's face had an angry red hand print across it and he seemed nothing short of furious. "You idiot, Potter. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know," shouted Harry, "Maybe that I would try and help you? You're an ungrateful bastard you know that?"

"I'm a bastard am I? That's the thanks I get for saving your child repeatedly?"

Hermione gasped, looking from Harry to Draco and back again with eyes as wide as saucers.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his anger disappearing suddenly in a wave of fear. "W-what?" he whispered, his face paling considerably. "Oh gods, I-I didn't realise . . ."

Even Draco couldn't stay mad at that. "I know. You just have to be more careful now, ok? No more getting thrown to the ground or trying to lift anything heavy."

"I was j-just trying . . . just trying to h-help you."

"Trust me, I'm not worth it," smiled Draco. He glanced over to see Hermione opening and closing her mouth, still looking between the two.

Harry touched his stomach briefly, still looking horrified, "I-I didn't . . . I never meant to . . ."

"Hey, Harry, it's fine. Nothing happened to you," Draco was getting worried that there might be a repeat performance of yesterday's tears. Thankfully the shock seemed to be keeping the tears at bay. Walking forwards, Draco ignored Hermione and reached out to grasp Harry's forearm, leading him slowly over to the closest chair. The boy followed meekly, slumping down into the chair before placing his head in his hands. Glancing quickly around, Draco saw Ron lying petrified on the sofa, obviously having been stunned and moved by Hermione earlier. On the other side of him, Hermione was still in a state of shock, not having moved an inch from where she was standing. Meanwhile, Harry's shoulders had started to tremble. Draco sighed heavily, before setting off into the kitchen to make hot chocolate once again.

_**

* * *

**_

AN:

hope you liked this. it's been a pain to write, because i've had all but the last scene ready for aaages, but i cudn't quite work out how Harry should tell Ron and Hermione (ok, admittedly Ron doesn't know yet). I hope i chose the method well.

_Please review!_

_oh yeah, i almost forgot - full credit goes to my BETA-reader, Etheral, for the marvellous line of "your own sexual experience consists entirely of wistfully recalling that time when Ginny-kind-of-looked-at-you-but-may-have-been-glancing-at-the-wall-instead" :D _


	8. Unexpected

**--- Chapter Eight ---  
Unexpected**

_Unexpected (adj): not anticipated; surprising_

Draco had never in a million years thought that he would become friends with the Golden trio, let alone find himself making hot chocolate for them. And yet, here he was, walking back into the sitting room that was now occupied with the three; all completely stunned by words, actions or even a spell.

Setting the tray down, Draco looked around, weighing up his options. Weasley was probably best left on the couch for the time being – at least he couldn't punch anyone there. Harry on the other hand still had his head buried in his hands, and Draco was extremely reluctant to go over in case he found the boy draped round him once more.

Steeling himself, he picked up two of the mugs and walked over to Hermione.

"Hey."

The girl blinked a few times when spoken to. Her eyes were still a little glazed, but she took a hold of the mug being thrust into her hands, even managing to take a few sips. She shook her head a little, focussing on Draco again.

"…Is he really pregnant, then?"

Draco nodded.

"Oh my goodness," she breathed.

"Yeah, I know."

"When did he find out?"

"Yesterday."

"Was that why he stayed over?"

"Yeah."

"Is he going to keep it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"How far along is he? Who's the other father?"

The questions were fired one after the other, barely giving Draco time to breathe.

"Woah. Slow down Hermione."

She did have the grace to look at least a little embarrassed, although there was still a steely glint in her eyes, giving away her desire for knowledge.

"Ok, I don't know how far along he is, but my guess is around 2-3 months."

"And . . .?"

"_And _I really can't tell you who the other father is. I mean, I could but I think Harry'd much rather I didn't."

"It's not yours is it, Draco."

"Wh- Gods no!"

"Guys?" came a voice from the armchair.

"Harry, you ok now?"

"Umm, yeah I think so. I just . . . well, it doesn't matter now, does it? It's done."

Draco was wondering how to respond to that, when Hermione leapt to his rescue.

"Come on Harry, you're not expected to remember everything. I mean, you only found out yesterday."

"Yeah, I s'pose."

Hermione walked over to the chair, already seemingly having recovered herself. She sat down on the arm and reached out to grab a steaming mug of chocolate, forcing it on Harry.

"Now, drink this. You need to be eating more anyway. And then, you're going to tell me everything."

It was incredible, mused Draco as he watched the boy meekly sip at his drink, how Hermione could be shocked one minute and mothering the next. He could barely summon up a comforting word if he had all the time in the world to prepare, but others just fell into it so easily.

"Now, spill! I want to know every little thing," said Hermione, nudging Harry gently. The boy smiled up at her, realising he had limited options.

"Should we wake up Ron first?"

"Perhaps."

Hermione stood up.

"Hey," said Harry, "Can I tell him? I haven't told anyone yet, 'cause _someone,_" he cast a mock-glare over at Draco, "stole my thunder!"

"What? Would I do such a thing, Harry?"

"Pfft."

Hermione shook her head at the pair, before drawing her wand on Ron and muttering 'Enervate' at him.

Ron's eyes fluttered open, luckily landing on Harry instead of Draco.

"What did I miss?" he asked groggily.

"I'm pregnant."

Almost instantly the ginger boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell back down onto the sofa.

Harry snorted rather ungracefully.

"Wow, he took it even worse than you," said Draco, honestly surprised.

"Yeah, well, that's Ron for you," quipped Hermione.

"I thought he was your boyfriend?"

"Yep. And as such I retain the right to mock him ruthlessly. Especially when he's unconscious." Hermione smiled sweetly over at Draco before turning back to Harry.

"Right, now you have to tell me everything. I'll tell Ron later, when he's a little less passed out."

"Fine," said Harry, heaving a very theatrical sigh, "Although, I think the thunder-stealer told you most of it?"

"True. But he wouldn't tell me who the other father was."

"Ah."

There was silence.

"Well?" prompted Hermione.

"You're not going to like this, 'Mione."

"I already asked Draco if it was his. It can't be any worse,"

"Oi!" came Draco's put-out response.

"Well," said Harry slowly, dreading having to tell his friend the truth (and blatantly ignoring Draco), "It depends."

Hermione gasped ever so slightly, "It's Snape isn't it?"

"I . . . you . . . wh- . . . how the hell?" asked Harry, his face contorting with confusion.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"You might be . . ."

"I knew it! He was the one you stayed with over the summer. I thought so – I sensed something between you two last year."

Harry was, to say the least, flabbergasted.

"So what does he think of this?"

Draco groaned inwardly.

"He . . . um . . . he doesn't know," mumbled Harry.

As ever, Hermione was a step ahead.

"You're not going to tell him are you?"

Harry didn't know how to answer this, so didn't.

Hermione turned instead to Draco, "Is he?"

"I don't know. I mean, he kinda has to because of Potions class, but . . . well, they're not really 'together' at the moment."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione.

"I know I should tell him, but it's too much," Harry drew in a shuddering breath, before suddenly letting everything tumble out, "I mean, I've just found out that I managed to get myself pregnant, by a man who wants nothing more to do with me. Hell, I didn't even know I _could _get pregnant."

"It'll be ok, though."

"Why does everyone say that? 'Ok'? How can it be ok, when I've already proved that I can't look after this child? I don't even know who to tell, because I'm afraid I won't be allowed to stay at school. All I've managed to do so far is cry and throw up."

"Aww Harry," said Hermione, her face softening as she reached over to pat Harry's arm.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione, but it's all so much."

"I don't mind, Harry. It's a lot to deal with."

"Again. It's always me isn't it?"

"You have to admit, a child is marginally better than a homicidal dark lord seeking vengeance," said Draco, earning a disapproving glare from Hermione.

"Ignore him, Harry. Now, you don't have to do anything yet, but let me tell you some things ok?"

"Mmmhhmm"

"Firstly, you _will_ be able to look after this child, once it's all sunk in. Secondly, you should tell Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore, because you'll need help and, to be honest, Dumbledore probably knew before you did. You can't just try and hide it from them. But as far as I know, there's no school rule saying that you shouldn't be allowed to continue your studies. As for Snape, it's up to you whether you tell him it's his, although I agree with Draco that you will need to tell him. I suppose you could say that you're only two months along, which would mean that it couldn't be his . . . unless you were still together at the beginning of term."

"No, we weren't"

"I thought not. Then there's the whole business of the rest of the school finding out, but you could use a glamour. Oh, and you won't be able to play Quidditch."

Harry groaned as Hermione finished her marathon speech, sounding as ever, like a textbook being read out.

Draco was the first to speak afterwards, "Do you actually know _everything_, Granger?"

Hermione just smirked at him, her hand still resting on Harry's.

"I suppose," said Harry slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly, "you're right as ever. I could tell Snape it's not his, but should I? I mean he probably deserves to know, but I don't think I can handle rejection again, and I don't want to be a burden to him. And yeah, I know I want to keep the child, so I should really talk to Madame Pomfrey about everything. And Dumbledore. And the Quidditch team, before practice tomorrow . . . oh shit, Sirius and Remus." Harry made to get out of his chair, but was pushed firmly back in place by both Hermione and Draco, the latter of whom had walked round behind the chair.

"Not now, Harry. Right now, you're going to sit here while I take Ron away somewhere, and Draco fixes you some lunch. Then you can think on everything, and talk to Severus and the Quidditch team tomorrow. Or even just stay in bed tomorrow, and talk to them another day. As for Sirius and Remus, a few days won't hurt."

"Bu-"

"Listen to Granger, Potter. She does tend to be right. From the looks of it you didn't sleep too well last night, and there is no way we're going to let you face anything without some rest and food. So just sit still, shut up and we'll sort it all out, ok?"

Hermione looked a little stunned by Draco's outburst, but regained her composure after a moment. Then, after giving Harry a tight hug, she levitated Ron out of the rooms.

"Well, I think that all went rather well, huh Harry?" asked Draco, smirking, "Good job you have at least one rational friend."

* * *

Harry dozed off after lunch and awoke later to the sound of Draco's whispers, followed shortly by Hermione.

"How can he be _so _sure that he wants this?"

"I don't know, but, I mean, he's always wanted a family."

"Yeah. I just don't want him to feel pressured – I may have been a little too pro him keeping it. It's just that he deserves . . . something now. Everything's been about Voldemort before, and a baby's really positive, it's just . . ."

". . . whether now is the best time. What with school, and the fact that he and Severus aren't together anymore . . . yeah."

Harry decided to make his consciousness known, by opening his eyes and stretching. Immediately two guilty faces turned his way.

"Harry! We were . . ."

". . . wondering if I'd made the right choice?"

"You were eavesdropping on us?"

"You were talking about me while I was asleep."

"Or not so asleep," countered Draco.

"You could have asked me yourself, 'Mione."

"I didn't want to upset you. There's just so much you have to think about."

"I know, but it'll be worth it. And I have thought about it – I'm going to talk to Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore soon. And then tomorrow . . ."

"You're going to tell Severus?"

"Yeah. It'll have to happen sometime – best to get it over with now."

"What about Sirius? And Remus?"

"I'll think about it. Maybe I can get them up to the castle later on. I think I'll tackle Severus first though – I don't think I can take them all on at once."

"Why?" asked Draco, "I thought your godfathers would be ok with this?"

Harry smiled wryly, "They might be, but that's not what I'm worried about. Sirius is going to be apoplectic if he finds out Severus is involved."

"Oh gods," said Hermione, "He's going to kill Snape."

"It's like the battle of the godfathers – yours versus mine. Bets, anyone?" laughed Draco.

Harry chuckled, trying vainly to ignore the actual situation. Sirius was . . . hot-headed, to put it mildly.

"Hey, where's Ron?"

"Eating I think. It's a comfort for him."

"How did he take it?"

"Umm…" muttered Hermione, glancing at Draco.

Malfoy smirked, before taking up the explanation, "He thought it was a joke for the first half hour. That was before we'd managed to talk about Snape. He threw up when he heard whose it was. Rather spectacularly I might add."

"Oh dear," sighed Harry, hanging his head.

"Don't worry, he'll come round…eventually," said Hermione sympathetically. "He just needs a bit of time . . . and food."

"He won't tell anyone will he?"

"I doubt it. Although, are you going to tell the rest of his family?"

"I don't know. Not for a while at any rate – maybe Ginny . . . oh, Ginny. Did Ron remember . . .?"

"Luckily not," laughed Draco, "I shall hide from him for a few days though. He may be a Weasley, but he knows how to fight."

"Hiding, Draco? Scared of a Gryffindor – what would your godfather say?"

"That it was a tactical retreat."

"Ah, one of those. Very Slytherin of you."

The rest of the afternoon passed merrily. Hermione left after a while to talk to Ron, leaving Harry and Draco arguing ferociously about the merits of living in the Muggle world.

* * *

Harry walked into Potions with a sense of foreboding the next afternoon. Well more, he was dragged by his arms into the classroom by a very determined Hermione. The day had not gone well – he had been violently ill that morning, after staying once again in Draco's rooms, and was late to Transfiguration. To Harry's further misfortune, Snape was already standing ahead of him, setting out ingredients. There was no getting out of it now.

"Go on," hissed all three of his friends, making little 'shooing' motions with their hands. Even Ron was pushing him forwards – apparently his time in the kitchens had brought him round to the idea. That, and the fact that Hermione had apparently lectured him for three straight hours last night.

Harry looked from them to Severus and back again. His eyes were wide, showing the fear inside.

"Get a move on, Potter, or the rest of the class will be here," whispered Draco.

Harry took a tentative step forward, glancing nervously around himself. But before he could move any further, he was pushed to the side by a handful of Slytherins, who made their way over to their desks. Just what he needed – an audience.

Undeterred (vaguely) he took another step forwards, only to be pushed aside once more by Dean and Seamus.

Deciding that the gods were not on his side today, Harry walked straight over to Snape, and cleared his throat nervously.

"Yes, Potter?"

"I…"

"What is it?" snapped Snape, already losing his patience.

"Well . . . I . . . could I have a word with you? In private?" asked the boy.

"No. But you may talk to me inside the classroom," Snape didn't even bother to look at Harry as he spoke.

"I-I can't do that. I need to talk in private . . . sir," the last word was spat a little contemptuously, as Harry's temper started to bubble up.

"Well, too bad I'm not part of your fan-club that would just love to be holed up in a room with you. Unless it has escaped your notice, I have a class to teach."

"I know! That's why I have to talk to you now."

Snape shot a slightly puzzled look at Harry, but stood his ground nevertheless. It was unfortunate that they happened to be equally as stubborn as the other (although Harry had perhaps a slightly better reason).

"No-one's stopping you from talking, Potter. Go ahead, say whatever you need to."

"Outside?"

"No, here."

"I can't," said Harry exasperated.

"Yes you can – you need to find some words first in the void of a brain you supposedly have, and then string them together into a fairly coherent . . ." Snape's icy voice and subtle smirk were probably what got to Harry the most.

"NOT HERE!" he shouted across the end of the man's sentence, finally losing it.

Then, without a backwards glance he stormed out of the classroom, slamming Lavender Brown into the door as he went. Hermione made to go after him, but an arm at her side held her back. Draco was watching Snape intently . . . with good reason.

The man took barely a moment to gather himself, throw a glare around the room that promised slow and painful death to any student that dared touch anything until he was back, and followed Harry out of the classroom.

"See?" muttered Draco to Hermione as she pulled her arm free of him, "They'll work it out – just give them some time before you run after Harry, ok?"

The girl 'harrumphed', before throwing herself down into a seat next to Ron, who had long since sat down. Draco smirked and slid into the chair next to her, an empty one to his right clearly marking Harry's absence.

Once out of the Potions lab, Snape broke into what could almost be termed as a jog. He didn't know what was wrong with Harry, but clearly _something_ was. Severus remembered Draco's talk with him from yesterday, and vowed to try to get back on better terms with Harry. After all, he missed the friendship they had built up, even if they couldn't have the summer back.

Admittedly, his plan wasn't going _too_ well at the moment, but if he could just find the boy, it would help.

Luckily it didn't take Snape too long to catch up with Harry. Unluckily, the boy looked murderous when Snape threw out an arm to pull him back.

"Ha-Po-Harry?" asked Snape uncertainly, stumbling over the name as his feelings collided with old habits.

"What?" snapped the younger wizard, trying vainly to throw off the arm that was now latched onto his shoulder.

"I-I . . . I'm sorry."

It was enough to stop Harry dead in his tracks. He stood motionless, gaping at the man before him.

"Uh?"

"I said . . . sorry. Look it up in a dictionary," muttered Snape, feeling the faintest bit embarrassed, but hiding it well.

"What for?" asked Harry eventually, eyeing Snape up suspiciously.

"For . . . going out of my way to aggravate you."

"O-ok."

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which Harry looked at Snape with a look of contemplation, his head cocked lightly to one side.

"Truce?" said Harry tentatively, "At least, as close as we'll ever get, which knowing us could be . . . interesting."

"…Fine." It took Snape a great deal of willpower not to ask for more than just a truce. It took even _more_ to stop him from throwing himself at the lips that were dancing in front of him.

Feeling that there should perhaps be some more formal recognition of the truce, Harry held out a hand.

After a moment, Snape took it.

"Now, care to tell me why you left my lesson? Or perhaps, what it was you wanted to talk about?"

Somewhere in Harry's mind a mantra of 'shitshitshitshitshit' started.

"Well, it was about lessons . . ."

"That much I gathered."

". . . and the potions we use . . ."

Snape drew in a deep breath, counting slowly in his mind. He was not going to explode, but incoherence was one of a long list of things that drove him half mad. It was one of the reasons that the Longbottom boy annoyed him so much – that and the fact that he had single-handedly exploded more cauldrons than the Weasley twins, without trying.

". . . well, umm . . ."

"Merlin! Would twenty questions make this any quicker?"

It was intended to be sarcastic, but either Harry failed to notice or deliberately misconstrued the meaning.

"Uh huh," he muttered, looking down at his suddenly-interesting-trainers.

Snape rolled his eyes, about to launch into a grammar lesson about rhetorical questions, but stopped. Then, sighing heavily, he did something he didn't really expect.

"Fine. It's directly linked to you?"

". . .Yes," said Harry, not quite believing that Snape was actually going through with this.

"It's to do with the potions themselves?"

"Sort of . . ."

"The brewing of them?"

"Yes,"

"Is it an academic problem?"

"No,"

"Medical?"

"…yes"

"Allergy?"

"No,"

"Change in state of health?"

"…"

"If I'm going to play this ridiculous guessing game, the least you can do is answer. Or tell me outright what it is."

"It's sort of a change in state of health."

"Riddles, Harry, will not get you far where my patience is concerned - it's 'sort of a change in state of health'? What sort of answer is that? I mean, you're not pregnant or something are you?"

Wide eyes that were immediately cast towards his feet was not the reaction Severus had been expecting from Harry.

"Oh."

Harry's already failing resolve broke at the shock in Snape's monosyllabic reaction. Looking up, he said, without really thinking, "It's not yours, don't worry."

Snape didn't register that comment for a little while. When he finally caught on to its meaning, he looked straight at Harry.

"Not mine?"

"No. I- … it's from someone else … at school. It was…after the summer."

"Right. Well…good," said Snape, firmly ignoring the foolish shred of hope that had leapt in his heart when Harry had told him.

"I just … thought you should know because of … well …"

"…Potions?"

"Yeah."

"I see. Well, I will be sure to keep an eye on that. You should be ok for the moment though. It's only when we move onto more complex potions later in the year," Snape hid his shock behind his knowledgeable words, preferring to talk about mundane things.

"Ok. Umm… thanks?"

"…"

"Shall … shall we go back now?"

Snape was quiet for a moment, before looking more clearly at Harry.

"Come," he beckoned, and swept off down the corridor.

_**

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AN:

thank you to everyone who has been reviewing - i wasn't sure how this story would go down. i'm glad you're liking it, and taking the time to tell me so. 

_hope no-one's too mad about this chapter - harry's a bit of a coward :D_

_please review as always - anything is good. ideas, comments . . . w/e. ty!_


	9. Stand

[s] ... [/s] denotes strikethrough

_

* * *

_

**--- Chapter Nine ---  
Stand**

_[s] Stand (vb): maintain a position; avoid falling [/s]_

_Stand (vb): hold one's ground; resist compulsion _

"You said WHAT?" screeched Hermione.

Harry was only glad that they were once again in Draco's rooms, and not in the Gryffindor common room. He'd had enough heads turn to look at him before to last him more than a lifetime. Admittedly, he might deserve it now.

"You told him it wasn't his?" asked Draco in a slightly lower-pitched, yet no less angry, tone.

Harry nodded.

"And what exactly, may I ask, possessed you to do that?"

"I . . . dunno,"

"Brilliant."

The last sarcastic comment cut the conversation and there was silence while Hermione seethed, Ron looked non-plussed and Draco stared intently at Harry.

Harry, for his part, was recalling the potions lesson. After he had walked back in, there were whispers that followed him round the room. No doubt news of his outburst would already have reached . . . well, everyone by now. Harry fervently hoped that the majority of students didn't give a crap. On top of the mutterings, Harry had had to withstand questioning glances from the three people now sat before him, and even the occasional nudge. Somehow, though, it was the fact that Snape refused to even look at Harry throughout the entire double period that was the worst part. Hell, he'd put up with gossipers and curious friends before now, but seeming to sink completely out of existence for Snape was unsettling.

Glancing up, Harry saw three identical looks of 'we're not leaving until you tell us why you did such a stupid thing' and sighed heavily. This day did not bode well for the rest of the week. "Well, you see . . . I . . . it was just that Snape seemed so disappointed," muttered Harry.

"Huh?"

"When I told him I was pregnant. He just stared at me, and said 'oh'. It was so . . . cold."

"Harry, he was probably in shock. I mean, it's not like either of you expected this," said Hermione, the anger _nearly_ completely gone from her voice.

"I know that . . . now. But still, what if he, you know when the shock wore off, what if he still was like that? What if he threw it all in my face and told me how stupid I'd been? Do you think I'd have been able to cope with that?"

"But still . . . he has a right to know."

"Yeah, but it's better like this. Better for everyone,"

"You can't know that Harry. Snape may want this. I mean, maybe he feels the same way as you do, about the summer and everything."

If he could have done it without being noticed, Draco would have hit his head soundly against the wall.

"No, 'Mione, he doesn't. He told me so, remember? So how could I expect him to want this?" Harry motioned at his stomach, "I can't – if I told him, I would know that it was a burden to him. And my child will not be a burden to anyone."

"Still mate, even though it's Snape and everything, you can't just hide this from him forever," said Ron.

"Weasley's right, Harry. Yes, you have good enough reasons for not telling-, actually, for _lying _to Severus, but you're going to have to tell him sometime, aren't you? And if you leave it too long, he'll just be angry that you kept it from him now."

"Maybe I won't ever tell him."

Harry did his best to ignore the gasps and looks of horror on all three of his friends' faces.

"Come on, think about it. He knew that this could happen, yet he still forgot to take precautions. _And_, as I've told you, he doesn't want to remember the summer, which is a little difficult if you've got a child to remind you. It's not as if I'm going to keep the child away from him, or hide it, but he just won't know it's his."

Hermione, Ron and Draco all started talking at the same time.

"But mate-"

"Harry, you-"

"Potter, really-"

Harry cut across them all, "No. This is my choice." He shot a determined look around the group, as though willing them to try talking again.

There was a moment's silence, then an 'ok' from Draco, followed shortly by the other two.

"Good," finished Harry, getting up to wander through to the kitchen.

* * *

At that moment in the dungeons, Severus was staring blankly at a book, without actually reading any of it. Reading seemed out of his cerebral capabilities at the moment.

Harry was pregnant. By another student.

Snape wasn't an idiot – he knew that in order for Harry to have found out, he must have had reason to guess, which would require symptoms. And symptoms did not usually occur until at least one month into the pregnancy. Chances were that the boy was nearing two months, which would mean that he had slept with someone just a week or two into the start of term.

This was all just further proof that Harry cared about the summer about as much as he cared for . . . well, whatever that boy cared for least.

Snape refocused his eyes on the book in his hands to find that he had shredded a good portion of the chapter on 'Gnoggots and their properties'. With a flick of his wand he repaired the book . . . then flung it at the wall in front of him.

* * *

The days seemed to drag by, as they tend to do when you know there's something you should be doing. Like going to see the school nurse . . .

"_Harry," started Hermione at breakfast on Wednesday, "Are you going to go today?" _

"_No," snapped Harry, causing Draco and Ron to wince as they felt an argument rising. _

"_Well, maybe tomorrow?" conceded the bushy-haired girl hurriedly._

"_Maybe, Hermione," said Harry tetchily._

It was now Friday afternoon, and Harry had still managed to evade Madame Pomfrey thus far. Although he would have to go soon, if just to ask for an anti-nausea potion; morning sickness was, apparently, a bitch.

Harry gazed frustratedly around at the masses of scrunched up pieces of paper now littering his corner of the common room. They lay around his feet, with the occasional one having been used as ammo against either Ron or Draco. The pair had naturally responded by tossing the paper back, although all three had stopped when Hermione's violent stare fixed upon them. Now, Ron and Draco were playing a rather subdued game of chess, trying to avoid catching Hermione's attention. Hermione for her part was buried in parchment and textbooks, finishing off some assignment or other. And Harry was rapidly running out of paper as he tried to write a letter to Sirius and Remus.

The main problem was that he had no idea what to write, in any sense. It wasn't just the wording; it was whether he should tell them in a letter, or ask them to floo-call him or even come to the castle.

On the floor in front of him now lay about seven letters, each saying different things, and more than one of them having been repeatedly scrumpled up and then flattened out.

Sighing wearily, Harry seriously considered a round of 'eeny meeny miny mo', before grabbing the parchments and getting to his feet. Three pairs of eyes fixed on him.

"You going to the hospital wing, Harry?" asked Hermione hopefully.

Before Harry could formulate a pissed off response, Draco cut across him with, "Decided what to put in your letter, then?"

"No – I'm off to the owlery though. I'll choose one of these," he brandished the letters, "when I get there . . . I hope."

"'K, mate," said Ron, turning back to the chess board and instructing his bishop to 'beat the living crap out of Malfoy's knight'.

Harry laughed loudly at the incensed look on the pale-haired boy's face – losing was something that Draco was being forced to accept.

"Should someone go with you, Harry?" asked Hermione, glancing meaningfully at his stomach.

"I'm not an invalid, 'Mione."

"I know, I just . . ."

"It's ok," said Harry, smiling wearily at her in what he hoped was an 'it's the hormones making me irritable' way, before walking over to the portrait hole.

The journey up to the owlery was one that Harry had made many times before – he felt like he was on autopilot, as his feet carried him with a will of their own.

Harry touched his stomach fleetingly; something he had been doing in the last couple of days, and walked along, thinking about potions that afternoon. He hadn't seen Snape since Monday, as he seemed to be keeping to the dungeons this week. Fortunately, Snape seemed to have remembered that Harry existed, but there was still something missing.

Harry hated to admit it, but he was actually missing the snarky remarks usually sent his way. It had become a tradition, and last year it had become amusing to join in not-quite-so-unfriendly banter with the potions master. Not that either of them would ever let anyone think that they were getting along, but there had been a distinct lack of personal attacks and more of a general sparring of words. Now though? This afternoon, Snape had merely given him instructions, and nothing more.

Harry suddenly realised that he was at the bottom of the owlery steps – he had gotten here sooner than he thought. Or, to be more precise, he had been thinking about Snape longer than he had ideally wanted. Damn the man and his insufferable control over Harry's thoughts.

Harry's tired legs protested slightly as he began climbing the stairs, and he realised he had had far less sleep than usual this week. Mainly due to his lying awake at night, fretting over who to tell about his pregnancy. And when. And how . . .

As he approached the top, he felt a little light-headed. He also thought he saw a black figure ahead of him, but as he snapped his head up in, was that hope?, his control vanished as his minor dizziness turned to full-out fainting and he began to fall slowly backwards.

_**

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AN:

sorry for any confusion - i uploaded this chapter twice, cos the first time i used the wrong document! whoops!

_sorry also for lack of chapters for a while. i've bin crazy-busy!_

_hope you enjoy this. also hope u review :D_

_ty_


	10. Luck?

**--- Chapter Ten ---  
Luck?**

_Luck (n): a chance happening, or that which happens beyond a person's control. Luck can be good or bad..._

Snape stood at the owlery window, gazing across the Hogwarts grounds. His owl was perched next to him, seemingly following his gaze, as his long tapered fingers rested lightly on its sleek black feathers. Though he would never admit it (in fact, he would rather massacre the students than let it get out) Snape was not the 'dungeon bat' everyone assumed him to be. The dark, dank dungeons provided solitude, yes, and they kept up his imposing air of menace. But what he really loved was open space. Air and grass, and a hint of rain . . . freedom.

But letting people see him wandering around the grounds would no doubt entice ridicule, or worse yet, a lack of paralysing fear in the students (and even some of the faculty). So he kept to his dungeons, tried to get duty outdoors in the summer, and frequented the owlery. As he was doing now.

Orpheus clicked his beak, deciding he had had enough of this. He stretched his wings and flew up to the rafters, his feathers seeming, to an outsider, to billow in a familiar way. To Snape's amusement, he settled next to a certain snowy owl, and ruffled his feathers. The female looked at him with what could most certainly be distaste, and turned her head, but didn't move.

Snape mused on this, laughing inwardly to himself about how his owl could be so childish and eager while Hedwig was so stand-offish, and yet it was the other way round when it came to himself and Ha-. . .

Harry.

And all of a sudden, the brief smile that had flittered across his features was gone. At the same time, light footfalls reached his ears from the stairs. Snape cast a glance up at his familiar, and the owl flew begrudgingly to his side. Retrieving the small, blank piece of parchment that he kept for this reason from his robes, Snape stood poised, ready to tie the parchment onto Orpheus' leg. With any luck, the person coming would leave quickly when he threw them a glare, and he would be able to just take his time tying the parchment on. Otherwise his owl would not be impressed with having to fly off around the castle, purely for master's ego. Snape was facing the top of the stairs, so that whichever unfortunate person was coming would not only be in the potions master's line of . . . glare, but they would also be able to clearly see what he was doing. It was at moments like these that Severus thought he may perhaps put too much thought into what he did.

A figure climbed the steps, his head bent, and Snape felt his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly, the tousled hair was thrown back and startled green eyes caught equally surprised obsidian ones, before they fluttered and Harry tilted back, letters falling from his slackened grip.

If Snape had had any time to think, he may have questioned the use of a spell on someone in Harry's condition, but he was already starting forwards, his wand drawn and the spell on his lips before his brain even acknowledged its own existence.

"Wingardium Leviosa"

The frail form before him halted its rapid descent, swaying a little in the air. Keeping his wand pointed at Harry, Snape was already within touching distance of him. He lowered Harry into his arms, as he sat gently down onto the stone step beneath.

"Idiot boy," he muttered gruffly, brushing a strand of hair from Harry's face.

Though Severus couldn't see it, both owls were staring at the pair before them, as if thinking, _oh yes, you're worried about someone seeing you looking out of a window, but not this?_

How long they sat there, Snape didn't know. He could have 'enervated' Harry, but the boy looked so at peace right now. The worried look that had been painted across his face for the fleeting seconds Snape had seen him before he fell was gone now. And so Snape sat there, his hand no longer brushing Harry's cheek, but hovering slightly away from the boy's face, not wanting to feel he was taking advantage in any way.

Eventually, there was movement in Harry's features, and his eyelids twitched open.

"Nngh?"

Carefully and gently, but not without a little haste, Severus raised them both up off the floor, to stand apart from one another. He kept a hold of Harry's shoulders, though.

"Ugh"

Harry blinked wearily, casting his eyes around, not seeming to notice that he was still leaning heavily to his right.

"Not again," he sighed, then focussed more clearly on the face before him, "Oh shit. I-I mean . . . sorry."

Feeling it was prudent, judging by the shade of red that Harry's face had now turned, Snape let his arms drop down to his sides.

"I'll take you to the Hospital Wing, Harry," muttered the older wizard, glancing down the stairwell.

"Ah"

If Snape had thought Harry was embarrassed before, it was nothing to what he was now.

"Harry, you _have_ told Poppy, haven't you?"

"Umm . . ."

"Outstanding. I don't imagine that you've thought about how . . . delicate you are right now? Or refrained from, say, storming out of classrooms, or . . . I don't know, running along corridors and such things."

"I haven't run anywhere."

Severus rolled his eyes, "Come on, you'd best get checked out."

As he walked down the steps, Snape kept his eyes firmly ahead of himself, trying hard not to turn around and watch the boy behind him. Instead, his eyes fell on the pieces of parchment that lay scattered down the stairs.

Leaning down to pick them up, he thought of how he would have had no qualms two years ago about reading the contents of the letters, preferably out loud in front of a class. Now though, he merely held them out behind himself, and felt them pulled lightly from his grip.

The journey to the Hospital Wing was a quiet one, each man deep in his own thoughts. Harry's hands were hidden in his sleeves, so the slight tremors in them couldn't be seen. He wasn't sure if it was because of what had just happened or what was about to. Would he be able to talk to Poppy without Severus hearing, or would Snape overhear how far along Harry really was? And what about the actual scan? What with all that had happened in the past week, would everything be ok with the baby?

Well, he mused as the entered the infirmary through its double doors, he was about to find out.

"Severus? Mr Potter?"

Poppy looked between the two and one didn't have to peer too closely to see the confusion on her face; there were seemingly-uninjured people in the infirmary.

"Can I help . . . one of you?"

"Harry?" whispered Snape out of the side of his mouth. He didn't know that Poppy heard him, nor that her brain was suddenly working overtime to read into the hidden meanings in the use of first names.

"Uh, yeah," muttered the boy, stepping forward, "Um . . . I . . . wanted . . . err . . ."

"Yes?"

"I wanted a word with you."

"About . . . ?"

Harry turned to stare imploringly at Severus, mouthing 'please'.

"Absolutely not, Potter. Tell her yourself."

Harry kept his gaze levelled at the potions master.

"No. In fact, Poppy, I think I'll go and get those potions you ordered."

Snape turned, a small smirk on his lips as he saw Harry's pout. A thought struck him.

"Actually, how is your stock of anti-nausea potion?"

Madame Pomfrey raised a hand to her forehead, thinking.

"Umm . . . I think I may have a few left."

"I'll find you a fresh batch – I have some I made last week," said Snape, before exiting the Wing.

". . . Thank you?" said the matron to the door, "Now, Mr Potter? Come on, have a seat and tell me what it is you want to talk about."

Poppy lead him to the nearest pair of chairs, beside a bed, and settled herself in one.

"Harry?"

He took the other seat, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap (the letters long since stored in his robes).

"I-I think, well, no, I _know, _I think, that I . . . I took a test and . . . I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?"

Harry nodded dumbly at the ground.

"Oh, Harry. At your age? Did you not think . . . after the lessons the school gave last year?"

"I didn't know . . ."

"Excuse me?"

"No one said it could happen to men. I missed the lessons last year, what with Voldemort and everything."

Poppy shuddered a little, although Harry knew it was nothing compared to how she would have reacted to the name a year ago.

"But still, some form of precaution should have been used, at least by your partner. There are charms and the such like . . ."

"Charms?"

Something clicked. He remembered charms being whispered.

"H-he _did_ use charms. I thought they were . . . they must have been precautions."

"Mr Potter?"

"I was wondering, why he hadn't thought of this, but he had. E-except . . . ohhh shit."

"Language," reprimanded the nurse lightly.

"There was that night . . . when we were both a little drunk. It must have been then."

"I need hardly tell you now that leaving this matter up to the other person is not wise . . . all it takes is one slip-up-"

"I know," said Harry, ruefully. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of this – somehow he'd just ignored everything he knew, because . . . well this was the Wizarding world, right? Everything was a little different.

"So this other man forgot one night? And that leaves you here with me," Poppy sighed and rubbed her temples, "Have you decided on what you wish to do?"

"Umm, yeah. I mean, I know it's not ideal or anything, but I want to keep the baby."

Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows shot skyward.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's my child isn't it. That's not something I can very well give up, especially after my own childhood. I want this."

There was something in Harry's voice, a sort of warmth, and the way his hand had moved towards his stomach that softened the matron. She had been prepared to lecture him further on responsibility, but the argument died in her throat. She remembered the other students that had come to her in the same condition; she remembered the tears and the anger and the firm tone in which they asked for an abortion. She did not remember a look of care and longing in their eyes.

Thrown a little off, she stood abruptly, "If you could pop up on the bed Harry, I'll give you a scan while we talk. If that's ok with you – I assume that's why you're here."

"Uh, yeah. I sort of fainted in the owlery, so Professor Snape thought it would be best that I came for a check-up. I was going to come . . . I was just busy."

"I see."

Harry climbed onto the bed as Madame Pomfrey summoned some curtains to go around the bed. As she set them up Harry said, "Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes?"

"Well, the thing is . . . I'm not telling the other father that it's his. He didn't want repercussions. But he's at the school, so I need to ask you not to tell anyone how far along I am. Or if you do have to, could you perhaps say that I'm two months along?"

"Umm Harry, are you sure you don't want to tell him?"

"No. It's complicated, but no."

"Can I ask who the other father is?"

Harry froze. To tell or not to tell?

"Umm . . ."

"You have my complete confidence, Harry. But you don't have to say a word. It would be easier though for me if I knew whether there was anyone I could talk to should I need to, and more importantly, who _not _to talk to."

"Well, I've told Draco, Hermione and Ron. And I'll tell Dumbledore, and he may need to tell some teachers. But I won't tell the rest of the school, because I really don't want the attention," Harry made a face at that word, "Although I don't know if I can use concealment charms or well . . . anything. I don't really know _anything_, least of all who I should tell about this all."

Poppy laid her hand on Harry's and gave it a small squeeze.

"You'll be fine, Harry. You have friends to help you, and you can come to me with any questions you have."

Harry could barely look the woman in the eye – admittedly he had been a frequent guest in the infirmary, but he'd never expected this much care from her. Which made the fact that he hadn't told her whose it was worse. If he wanted to talk with her, surely honesty was going to be the best policy?

"About the other father . . ."

"Don't worry, Harry, you really don't have to tell me. I was just curious, but now I have people I can talk to-"

"No, please, I want to tell. There are so many people I haven't told, I'm not sure I can take so much secrecy. I . . . well, it's Severus'."

Severus? Was there a student called . . . oh mercy, thought Poppy.

Harry continued to ramble on, "I know it's bad, but it's not as bad as it seems. I mean it was out of school – we never carried it on into term time. And it's all over now. But . . ."

Suddenly tears welled up in Harry's eyes. He swiped angrily at them.

"Harry? Are you ok?"

There was no answer. A horrible thought rose up in the matron's mind.

"Harry . . . it _was _consensual, wasn't it?"

"What?"

"He didn't-"

"No, he didn't force me. He wouldn't. That just makes it worse though."

Poppy's eyebrows knitted together, "How?"

"I just . . . I was an idiot. I know it was just foolish fun, and nothing serious, but I . . . I miss him."

Abandoning self-control, Poppy sat beside Harry and held him close to her as tears streaked his pale face.

"It's just not the same is it? I have my friends, but I don't have someone who feels the same way as I do about my . . . our child. I don't want him to know, but I wish he could be here – for the scan, and for everything after that," muttered Harry.

The matron rocked him as one might a small child, murmuring to him. He was just so lost, poor thing.

After a few minutes, Harry wiped his eyes in a defiant way, shaking his head a little. She stood again, and looked down at him.

"Harry, I won't tell anyone about this, because technically it _was_ out of school, so it's not against the rules per se. And I won't let on to Severus that-"

She broke off, as the door to the infirmary opened, and turned to see, through the undrawn curtains, a certain professor entering with a tray of potions.

A small 'fuck' issued from behind her but she didn't say anything, because in all fairness a very similar thought had just run through her mind.

"I'll put these in the back, Poppy, then I'll go and get the other tray."

"O-Ok Severus."

That was the bad thing about potions – they had to be transported by hand in case the magic tampered with them. But that would mean Severus would be back. Perhaps, if she played this right . . . well, she'd see.

Turning back to Harry she saw him lying on the bed with his head turned firmly away so Severus couldn't see the tears. She sighed then drew the end part of the curtain across, shielding the door from view, but allowing her to still see a lot of the rest of the hospital wing. The door opened and closed again, and she turned back to Harry.

"A little too close, perhaps?"

Harry chuckled wearily.

"Right, just a few more things before I do your scan for you. Firstly, I assume from earlier that Severus does actually know you're pregnant?"

"Yeah he does. I had to tell him because of potions."

"Miss Granger's idea?"

Harry pretended to be offended, "No, Draco's actually. But thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, smiling.

"And how far along does he think you actually are?"

"I didn't say to him. But I imagine that pretending it's closer to what it actually is, is going to be easiest. A little more than two months is what I'm going with – so from nearly the start of term."

"That makes sense. Ok, now I've got lots of information somewhere in my office I can give you about this, but you asked about glamours?"

"Yeah, is that possible at all?"

"It should be, although there are strict regulations. You can't use one until you are three months, but that should be soon. And then you can only use it for 60 hours a week. That gives you five full days of use, which will cover lessons, but it is advisable to use it for as little time as possible. I would suggest you use it for meals and lessons, and otherwise keep to your dorm. Although having your own set of rooms would be best. I'm not sure what the headmaster would say-"

"I'll ask Draco," said Harry suddenly, "He's in separate rooms now, because of the incident with the Slytherins."

"Won't that be a little cramped?"

"No, actually Hogwarts created a couple of bedrooms and . . . well enough for two people strangely."

"Interesting. You were presumably pregnant when you asked for the rooms?"

"Yeah I . . . would _that_ have done it?"

"I don't know Harry, but it's certainly possible. Best to ask the headmaster though."

"Yeah," Harry said pensively.

"Anything else, Harry?"

"Is there some sort of potion I can take for morning sickness?"

"Yes, there's . . . ah. _That's _what Severus . . . I see. Yes, I'll give you a supply of anti-nausea potions, although I can't promise that they'll be completely effective. And being a male, morning sickness does tend to last longer, sometimes into the fourth month, so I'll keep the potions stocked up for you."

"Thanks. Also, umm . . . when can I find out what the baby is? I mean, boy or girl."

"We'll see how far along you are first, ok?"

"How?"

Poppy smiled at him, "This bit's easy – it's just a simple charm. Here," she said, and then pointed her wand at his midriff and muttered something.

A small date appeared in mid-air above Harry; August 20th

"Exactly three months then, Harry. You can find out today if you wish."

"I'll think about it, Madame Pomfrey."

"Harry, you can call me Poppy. I think we've seen each other more than enough times, by now."

Before Harry could respond, there was the sound of the doors opening again, and an unmistakeable swish of robes. Harry's eyes shot straight to the date still hovering above his stomach, wide with panic. But before he could do any more than that, Madame Pomfrey shifted to her side, providing a screen between the date and the rest of the infirmary and muttered a counter-charm.

Finally realising he needed to breathe again, Harry let out a shaky breath before seeing Snape behind Poppy. He barely heard the matron's next words as he realised just how damn near-fatal that moment had been – if Snape was ever going to find out, which he wasn't, that was definitely one way that would not go down well with the man.

"Harry? Did you hear me – I said I'm going to do the scan now."

"Huh? Oh right," said Harry, then realised what the Poppy had actually said. As the nurse turned to go, presumably to get some piece of equipment or other, Harry reached out and grabbed her forearm lightly.

"Mad- uh, Poppy? The baby – it will be, you know, ok, won't it?"

There was a tremor in his voice as he thought back on that afternoon with Draco, Ron and Hermione. Could it have caused any damage?

"I should hope so, Harry. We'll just do the scan and see, ok?"

He nodded ever so slightly, not trusting himself to speak. At the same time, his hands start to twist the sheets beneath him.

Poppy looked at the boy before her, the fear in his eyes more than obvious. Perhaps he should have one of his friends here? Although Poppy had a better idea, provided Harry didn't kill her for meddling.

Walking over to one of the many cabinets in the wing, Poppy saw Severus coming out of the potions store. After a split second's indecision, she altered her course and strode towards the man.

"Severus," she asked in a quiet tone that she hoped wouldn't carry across the room, "Could you do me a favour?"

The man quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Harry's a little . . . nervous about the scan. I was just wondering if you could perhaps sit with him, just while I do the scan. I'd call one of his friends, but I'd just be prolonging the wait for him and you seem to be getting along better with him now anyways."

Severus looked down at the matron in a calculating way.

"Please, Severus?"

Heaving a sigh, he nodded.

"Thank you. He's just over there."

"So I see."

"And Severus? Please try to be nice."

Making a mental note never to do anything so stupid again in all his life, Snape walked over to the bed Harry was lying on. As he rounded the curtain, the boy's eyes widened slightly.

"Severus?"

Snape said nothing, instead seating himself in one of the chairs beside the bed.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I notice a conspicuous lack of my godson, or Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, to sit with you."

"It's ok, you don't have to-"

"Is that why you're hands are shaking? Because 'it's ok'?"

Harry glared at Snape, "Well, forgive me if I'm worried about ou- _my _child."

Harry prayed to any god that was listening that Snape had not heard that 'ou-'.

"Harry, you're allowed to be a little scared. But you're also allowed to have someone sitting with you. If you don't want me here, I'll go, but if you're lying about being fine just to preserve your ego. . ." said Snape, hoping Poppy was not behind him, listening. It would not do to have anyone else hear him be supportive.

Harry looked at Snape for a while, then opened his mouth to speak, but at that point Poppy came back, with a weird looking instrument in one hand.

"Here we are," she said, "This is basically what I'll be using. It works kind of like muggle 'ultrasounds'. It'll give the baby's stats and even 'print out' pictures if you want. If you could just undo you shirt – it'll be quicker without the layer of clothing."

Harry undid the buttons clumsily, then let his hands drop back to the bed and closed his eyes, his breathing a little accelerated.

To his surprise, he felt a larger hand rest on his forearm, giving it an almost unnoticeable squeeze.

There was a slight whirring from the instrument, which lasted a good few minutes. When it finally stopped, Harry cracked open his eyes warily.

"Good news, Harry. The baby's fine."

A smile lit up Harry's face. He reached his hand up to his face on the pretence of straightening his glasses, while surreptitiously brushing away a tear.

"Th-thanks, Poppy."

"No problem. Now, did you want to know the sex?"

Without thinking, Harry turned to Severus, the question poised on his lips before he even realised it.

"Your decision, Harry, not mine," said Snape, a hint of confusion in his silky voice.

"Yeah, right," muttered Harry, looking away quickly. He really needed to think before he did stuff like that.

"Umm, no thanks then," he said finally, "I'll wait. Ron, Hermione and Draco would kill me if I did it without them."

"Perfectly understandable, Harry. Would you like a photo? One that doesn't give away whether it's a girl or boy, of course."

"Yes please." Harry's voice was like a child's at Christmas, and the smile that accompanied the excitement made Severus almost weak at the knees. Definitely time for him to leave.

"I should go," he said gruffly, standing up and turning away.

"Severus?" called Harry.

He stopped.

"Uh . . . thank you."

Snape made a non-committal grunt, though a hidden smile tweaked his mouth.

_**

* * *

**_

AN:

yay me - i uploaded quickly. and a long chapter at that!

_thanks to my gorgeous BETA-reader, _Etheral_, for putting up with almost constant 'hey what about this . . .' and 'what did you think of . . .'. so yeh, thanks for not throttling me :D_

_i hope you like this chapter - sorry for being so evil with all the 'almost' moments :D (i'm not _that_ sorry!)_

_anyhoos, i'd luv ur thoughts on the chapter as always, and also on: severus' owl's name (cos i cud always change it!) AND, more importantly, boy or girl?????_

_thanks for reading_


	11. Divine

**--- Chapter Eleven ---  
Divine**

_Divine (adj): excellent, delightful  
__Divine (vb): discover by guessing, intuition, inspiration or magic_

_Stupid, foolish, sentimental . . . git!_

The little voice in Snape's head had moved from laughing at him to plain insults. _Well-deserved ones_, he thought dejectedly, as he walked down to the dungeons.

He shook his head. Who would have thought it? Even in the days of Voldemort and all of his spywork, nothing had gotten through to him. Nothing had breached his impenetrable icy shields. Apparently all it took was a pregnant teenager to do that.

_You didn't have to agree to Poppy's request_, the voice reminded him.

True, but she was a good friend of his, and he was there anyway and . . . and . . .

_And you _wanted_ to, didn't you?_

To which the voice was told precisely where it could shove itself.

* * *

Harry practically skipped out of the Hospital Wing after another ten minutes of talking to the matron, feeling nothing could dampen his mood. Not even Poppy's lecture just as he was leaving, about how he should tell Severus. Nor the massive wad of parchment he had in his robes, detailing _exactly_ how much he didn't know about pregnancy and children.

Nope, none of it even came close to casting a shadow over the picture he had safely tucked in the pocket of his jeans. A smile lit up his face, making his eyes sparkle in the soft light.

"Good to see you in higher spirits, m'boy," came a jovial voice. Harry could do nothing but grin at the headmaster as he came towards him. "I was thinking about having a spot of tea, a little late I know. Would you care to join me?"

"Yes sir. That'd be great."

"Wonderful, wonderful. I'm just going to get a calming draught from Poppy, then we can go back to my office."

"Would that be the draught you lace your lemon drops with, sir?"

The amused twinkle and smile was all the answer Harry needed as they set off back down the corridor. Walking beside the older wizard, Harry was reminded of making the same trip barely half an hour ago. However, it was in a decidedly better mood that he once more stepped through the infirmary doors.

"Good afternoon, Albus," greeted the matron before adding with a smile, "Back so soon, Harry?"

"Oh?" The headmaster turned to face Harry, but was distracted by the matron before he could formulate a proper question.

"I'm sure he'll tell you later, Albus. Now, calming draught isn't it. Hmm, there's some in the store cupboard."

As she bustled away, she called back, "Harry, could you come help me move the new potions Professor Snape delivered?"

There was a little hesitation on the boy's part, but he wasn't exactly going to explain why he couldn't lift anything with Dumbledore next to him, so he followed. Besides, he wasn't too keen to be left with the older wizard now that he knew Harry had been here earlier. Following the matron, Harry felt that maybe accepting the invitation to tea hadn't been such a marvellous idea after all.

As the store door closed behind him, Poppy started moving the trays and searching for the correct vial. She had it in her hand in under a minute.

"Poppy, why . . ."

"Shh," she whispered, checking the door was shut, "I just needed to talk to you quickly. Don't worry I wouldn't make you lift anything - from what you told me I'm sure Mr Malfoy would have no qualms in hexing me for that."

Harry couldn't stop a rueful smile from escaping.

"I just thought I'd give you a little advice: tell the headmaster today. He's bound to ask why you were in here earlier, and if you avoid it now you might never have the courage to talk to him. And he _does_ need to know."

"But..."

"No buts, trust me on this."

With that she pushed past him to the door and swept out. Feeling he wanted nothing more than to sink into a pit, Harry drew in a deep breath and left too. Internally, he dreaded the prospect of having to explain everything to yet another person.

"There you go, Albus. Although, I hope you know most of the staff have realised what's in those sweets. Students too I should imagine."

"I'm sure I don't kno-"

"Of course not. Well, if you'll excuse me, I must go and sort out those new potions. Goodbye."

"Thank you, Poppy," smiled Albus, pocketing the vial, "Right, let's see about that tea shall we?"

* * *

It was as Dumbledore poured the tea that Harry noticed how stuffy the office was. And that his hands were trembling once more. _Curse this_, he thought. He wished there was an easy way, like holding up a big sign with 'I'm pregnant' on it. There were so many things to consider: did the headmaster know he had stayed at Severus' over the summer, would he guess it was his, would Severus lose his job, would he be expelled . . .

He nearly fell off his chair when Dumbledore said "Tea, Harry." Taking the saucer, he set it down on the table as the cup began to rattle ominously. Albus either didn't notice or just didn't ask. Harry would have been relieved had he not instead said:

"So what was it you needed to see Poppy about today? Surely you haven't injured yourself again?"

_Just do it,_ said the voice in Harry's head. _Go on, just say it now. _"No, I . . .uh . . ." _Say it! _"I'm pregnant."

A heartbeat, maybe two passed. Then, "Ah yes, of course. Well, I believe congratulations are in order."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, not trying to hide the blatant staring. Would _nothing_ faze the man? "H-how did you . . ."

Albus chuckled. "Well, apart from your recent trend of biting Miss Granger's head off at meal times, your loss of appetite and the fact that Madame Pomfrey was putting away her scanner as we walked into the ward, I also heard from one of the ghosts about the incident with Professor Snape's robes." Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore's smile increased a fraction at that last part.

"Oh," was all he could think of to say though. He reached for his tea, hoping there was a draught in that too.

"Now, don't worry. As far as I'm aware, no one else knows unless you've told them. There is nothing in the school rules that says you can't continue to study should you wish to."

"There isn't?" asked Harry tentatively, "I thought . . ."

"I grant you the situation is a tad unusual, but certainly not illegal. However, I will need to inform your subject teachers, as well as Madame Hooch to explain why you will be coaching your team from the ground for the rest of the year. As for the school at lar-"

"Wait, how do you know I'll keep the baby?"

"Why else would you have told me?" asked Albus, still smiling, "And unless I'm mistaken, that's a photo from a scan I can see sticking out of your pocket."

With all the revelations from Dumbledore, Harry had almost forgotten. He pulled the small picture out, grinning down at it.

"Would you . . . like to see?"

"I'd like that very much."

He handed the photo over, watching the old wizard take it gently and peer at it through his half-moon spectacles. Harry could have sworn there were actual lights in the headmaster's eyes, they twinkled so much.

"Thank you," said Albus warmly as he handed the photo back. He surveyed the boy over the rim of his spectacles as he gazed at the photo, lost in it.

A minute or so passed, before the student tore his eyes away, carefully tucking the photo away again.

"As I was saying, you will need to think about whether you wish to tell the rest of the school or not. I leave that entirely up to you, although I think it may be better if you did let people know. Your Quidditch team for one will be wonder why you have relinquished your position on the team."

"I'll see, sir. I'm not sure I really want the Prophet getting hold of this at the moment. I might leave it a while - everything's going a little fast already."

"I quite understand, m'boy. I'm sure it's given you a lot to think about. When did you find out?"

"Last Saturday." Had it really been a week ago, mused the boy. "Luckily I had Draco with me, seeing as Hermione and Ron were in Hogsmeade."

"Ah yes, I've been meaning to ask you about Mr Malfoy. I see he's been joining the Gryffindors for meal times. Is everything going well?"

* * *

It was about half an hour later that Harry finally made his way back to his common room. His head was buzzing so much with the afternoon's events that it took him a while to even register the Fat Lady in front of him, let alone remember the password. No sooner was he through the portrait-hole, then he was set upon by Hermione.

"Oh Harry! Where have you been? I was so worried - I thought you'd fallen down the owlery stairs or something." The last sentence was partly muffled as Hermione seemingly tried to hug the life out of him, but it still tugged a wry smile to Harry's lips. _Maybe Hermione should reconsider divination_, he thought. A quick scan of his surroundings over his friend's shoulder revealed Ron and Draco to be standing not three feet away, with matching looks of relief tempered by a slight annoyance on their faces. Perhaps a short explanation would not be amiss.

"'Mione, my lungs and I would quite appreciate the use of my throat again, if you'd be so kind." The young witch reluctantly drew back, then threw the full force of one of her patented glares at him. It was at times like this that Harry wondered whether Hermione would ever need to use Veritaserum. "Um right, this afternoon . . ."

* * *

_**AN **hi guys. i'm still alive! lol_

_sorry about the MASSIVE delay in this story. RL has been crazy busy with exams and work and whatnot. haven't had a moment to think clearly._

_anyways, thanks for your continued dedication to this story (which i can assume if you're reading this :P). your reviews have really spurred me along (hint hint :D)_

_this chapter is a bit of a filler chapter i'm afraid - i would make it longer, but the way life is panning out, that could prolong the update delay by many, many weeks, so i thought i'd offer this up as it is. __hopefully i will get inspired soon, and write more for you all. fingers crossed!_

_official apologies to anyone reading _Blinded by Anger _- if you haven't already seen the note on my profile page, it is 'on hiatus' and i have few/no plans to go back to it. but, on the bright side, i am working on a new fic to replace it - the only real similarity it has is that it features blind!harry. oh, and it's sshp of course :D anyhoos, that could take a while to be uploaded as i want to have written a good proportion of it before i start feeding it to you - saves me from digging too many plot holes. _

_finally, thanks to my beta-reader, _Etheral,_ for reviewing this chapter _after _i uploaded it (i'm too impatient for my own good)_

_right, ramble over i think. just thanks, and review please!_


	12. Arrangements

**--- Chapter Twelve ---  
Arrangements**

_Arrangements (n): plans  
Arrangement (n): agreement_

By the end of the following week Harry felt ready to drop. It seemed that he had been kept busy every waking hour talking to various relevant people about his pregnancy:

First came his teachers, after Dumbledore had spoken in the weekly Monday morning staff meeting. Unfortunately, they all seemed to have decided on the same excuse for talking to Harry, which got a fair number of suspicious looks from his classmates when he was, once again, asked to stay behind in class to 'go over last week's homework'. No-one ever managed to ask Harry about it though as they were instantly diverted by Ron, Hermione or Draco (in Neville's case it actually took all _three_ to convince him that nothing was wrong and that Harry had simply had a bad week, homework-wise). The teachers themselves seemed to be split between congratulations and disappointment, but that was to be expected, surmised Hermione. After all, Harry was still very young and blah blah blah (he tended to tune it all out after that). Professor Trelawney, of course, insisted that she had known all along, but hadn't wanted to ruin the surprise for him.

Next, Harry had spent an inordinate proportion of Wednesday evening talking to McGonagall in her office. After what seemed like hours they had managed to establish that Harry would talk to his Quidditch team the following day and would still be coaching them, just not anywhere near a broom. Also, he would be staying in Gryffindor tower until after the Christmas holidays, as the students would be informed of his condition at the beginning of next term. _That_ detail was thrashed out for quite some time: Harry argued that he didn't want to drag his child into the limelight, with rumours circling about its heritage before it was even born, while McGonagall protested that the news would leak out anyway, and this way there would be no need for a glamour after the holidays. In the end, it was only after his Head of House pointed out that uninformed students would be less than careful around him that caused Harry to concede the point, though only as far as after the holidays so he could have a couple of months of peace. Until then, his friends would be employed as bodyguards in the corridors. After the negotiations, they talked about what Harry would be doing after graduation (so far his plan was to buy a house near Grimmauld Place - more importantly, near the helping hands of Sirius and Remus - and stay there for a couple of years at least), and about the various check-ups, medication, precautions etc he would need in the coming months. All in all, the meeting could have been a darn sight more uncomfortable, and it was a helpful way of sorting Harry's frazzled brains into some semblance of order.

The next meeting, with the Quidditch team, did not go quite as smoothly, largely due to the fact that, after Harry had proclaimed his resignation from the team, there was so much uproar, both from the team and the newly-instated reserve team, that it was impossible for his proposal of on-the-ground coaching to filter through to them. He tried in vain to remind the teams that, with Ginny taking over as Seeker from the reserves the team was hardly going to be any worse off, but no-one seemed to be paying attention to him ...yet. It wasn't until Ginny (who had already had everything explained to her the day before) and Ron yelled for quiet that the teams suddenly realised they had no idea _why_ Harry was dropping out from the team. Eventually, after a brief explanation of the situation, several congratulations and even more exclamations of surprise, Harry reiterated his plan for continuing to coach off ground. He tried to relinquish his captaincy to an actual player on the team but, although they were incredibly supportive of Ginny's promotion, they all flat-out refused to acknowledge that he was 'off the team'. Harry felt his throat constrict and was immensely relieved when Ron gruffly interjected at that point to swear all the players to secrecy about this until after the holidays. It was fortunate that Harry had already beaten Slytherin in the match at the beginning of the month (a fact that had terrified Hermione when she realised it on Tuesday), as the change to the team line-up would not come to light until the next match, after the holidays.

After the stress of that week and the previous one, Harry wasn't too surprised to find that he spent most of Friday in bed, ill. The morning sickness had abated that week, only to return with a vengeance. Draco and Ron half-carried him to the Hospital Wing after breakfast, determined that he got checked over by Poppy. After that, they returned at lunchtime with Hermione to fuss over him (and partly to make sure he stayed where he was). So it was that when the end of the school day rolled around, Harry's bored mind had already affixed one of his three friends' faces to the footsteps echoing down the corridor, and he was mentally preparing his best arguments for being allowed back to the dorms, when Snape appeared in the doorway. His eyes headed straight to Harry as he entered, his feet following.

"Good evening, Po-" a quick glance around the room, "...Harry."

A smile tugged stubbornly at Harry's lips.

"Hi"

Snape seemed to look shiftily around, something he was not often seen to do.

"Did you want something...Severus?" The use of his name seemed to settle the man down, and the fleeting half-smile he gave Harry made it feel like they were back in the holidays again, where words had flowed so freely between them.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that the potion we will be studying on Monday will be one of the ones, shall we say, currently unsuited to you, so I would advise turning up at the end of the lesson. So as not to incur any suspicion, you can make up some feeble excuse and I will give you a detention that evening, where we will go over the lesson, minus of course the practical. Quite a plausible situation, I think."

"You know, that may well be close to my hundredth detention with you," laughed Harry.

There was a silence, then Snape started again,

"I also wanted to see how you were feeling: Draco informs me that you have over-exerted yourself." The scowl that accompanied these words was definitely diluted with a tinge of worry.

_Tattle-tale_, thought Harry to himself, before saying, "I'm much better now, thanks. I was just under the weather this morning, which Hermione thought merited confining me to the Hospital Wing for the entire day. I'm actually waiting for them to come and release me from my prison cell now."

The two men smiled knowingly at each other, an unspoken hatred of the infirmary hanging between them.

"I'm sure Poppy has run all manner of check-ups on you today."

"Like you wouldn't believe," groaned Harry, unable himself to believe how surprisingly pleasant and relaxed the conversation was, "But it's worth it for a clean bill of health."

"So, your . . ." Severus glanced at Harry's stomach.

Harry caught his look and moved his hand to rest on his still-flat belly with a grin, "Yep, it's fine."

Then, thinking he might not get the chance again, Harry succinctly pulled the photo from the pocket of his trousers (he'd carried it everywhere with him this week, careful to keep it hidden from general view). It was slightly creased now, as he had shown it to Hermione, Ron and Draco several times, as well as McGonagall and Flitwick (the two teachers who had seemed most pleased for him) and Ginny.

Harry knew Snape was watching him, and he kept looking at the photo for a few more seconds before seeming to remember the other man's presence.

"Oh, would you like to see?" he asked innocently, turning the photo round.

Snape actually sat down on the bed, before taking the photo with the utmost care from Harry's grasp. Of course it was at that very moment that Draco slid into the infirmary, no doubt to free Harry. He saw the scene before him with disbelieving eyes - Harry laid in bed, his hand resting on his stomach as he gazed at Severus, who in turn was perched on the side of the bed looking down at the first picture of their child. It was a fragile image, swiftly broken as the door of the Wing was pushed to by a draft.

Both men whipped their heads round and the photo was hurriedly given back to Harry before either of them saw who it was.

"Oh, Draco, hi," said Harry, trying and failing to look pleased.

"I assume you're here to take Ha- Mr Potter back to the safety of Gryffindor tower?" The formality worked its way back into Snape's speech, despite the fact that Draco had heard him say 'Harry' many times before now.

"Yes, well, in a few minutes. I'll just go and ask Madame Pomfrey first."

Draco may have succeeded in subtly extracting himself, but the atmosphere was broken.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." The sentence hung in the air, as if waiting for a name to finish it, but none came.

"Yes sir. Thank you," muttered the student.

And Snape was gone in a swirl of black.

* * *

"What did he say?" whispered Hermione, as they sat down to eat that evening.

"Nothing actually - we were interrupted by Draco."

"Hey hey, how was I to know that I was butting in on that. Come on, its not really the likeliest of scenarios now is it?"

"Pass the potatoes, 'Mione."

"Pass the potatoes _what_, Ronald?"

"...Please."

There was simultaneous snickering from Draco and Ginny, who stopped abruptly when they noticed and looked at the other, shocked. Suddenly the tablecloth became incredibly interesting to Draco, whilst Ginny blushed and stared fixedly at her food.

Harry and Hermione looked on the helpless scene and grinned at each other.

"Hey, Draco, could you pass the beans please?" asked Harry deviously.

The blond haired boy didn't look up as he reached for the beans...only to find Ginny's hand resting beside the dish. It was comical, the way the two blanched, both yanking their hands back and looking anywhere but at each other.

Harry waited patiently, timing it just right before asking, "Draco?"

"What?" came the all too quick reply.

"The beans, please?"

"Oh, right, yeah."

"Thanks _so _much," drawled the smirking boy, before setting the untouched dish in front of him.

Draco just glared with as much force as he could.

The rest of dinner was spent in virtual silence. Draco and Ginny ate in a manner more often associated with robots. Harry would have been surprised if they even noticed when the main course ended and dessert began. Ron, meanwhile, started a personal vendetta against the food, spearing and sawing at it mutinously, throwing a few sideways glances at Draco before returning, with renewed intent, to mutilating his meal.

Hermione seemed to be shovelling her food down as quickly as possible, reminding Harry of the times when she was plotting an urgent mission to the library. But instead of dashing off there after the meal, she guided Ron Harry and Draco straight towards Draco's rooms.

She shut the door behind them then turned to Harry and he could see now that she was just itching to get all of the details of his and Snape's encounter in the infirmary - the explanation before dinner had only extended as far as Harry telling her that he'd shown Severus 'the photo'.

"So?" she asked.

Harry was sorely tempted to look innocent and say 'so what?' but he knew better than that by now; Hermione would sell her soul for any form of knowledge that she deemed important and would hardly be averse to throttling him, pregnant or not.

"Ok, ok. Right well, I was waiting in bed, like the good boy I am, for one of you guys to come free me, when Snape came in. He was telling me about Potions on Monday - apparently I have to do the lesson in a pseudo-detention that evening, without the practical."

Draco and Hermione just shrugged their acceptance of that - they'd obviously already realised what would happen.

"Then what?" prompted Hermione, leaning forward almost imperceptibly.

"Well, then he asked how I was feeling, and whether the baby was ok. I just sort of seized the opportunity and showed him the photo. I don't know why, I guess I just thought it was right that he should see it."

Harry trailed off and, ducking around his friends, made a beeline for the kitchen.

"Hot chocolate, anyone?"

He didn't wait for an answer, desperate to get away from the inquisition.

"I'll come help you," said Draco quickly, sweeping Harry into the kitchen and shutting the door.

"Oh Draco, you're so romantic," swooned the boy, pulling the startled blond towards him. He inched closer to Draco, tilting his head up at him. Their lips were barely an inch from each other when Draco pulled away.

"Hah," crowed Harry, "Beat you!"

"Gay chicken doesn't count if you're gay, Harry," muttered Draco.

"Someone's a sore loser."

"Am not, I'm merely pointing out the obvious."

"Sure. Now make me hot chocolate, slave."

Harry perched on the edge of the table, pretending to control Draco like a puppeteer. Ordinarily, Draco would have just muttered a few spells and be done, but as of late he had become paranoid about performing magic around Harry when it wasn't absolutely necessary (i.e. out of lessons). So the ice prince himself was making hot chocolate the muggle way. Harry told Draco each time that he was being ridiculous, but the gesture touched him. It didn't stop him from taking a few sneaky snapshots with his wand though.

"So Harry, are you still set against telling Severus?"

"Uh, why?"

"Oh no reason. You just seem to be going out of your way to include him, is all."

"Hey, I'm not going 'out of my way'. It's just that ...well, situations arise."

"Oh yes, unavoidable situations I'm sure. Come on Harry, I know what you want. Just tell him - you never know what he'll say."

"The hell you know what I want, Draco," he fired.

Malfoy didn't answer. He just stopped to flick his wand casually at the end wall, and then continued to stir the drinks.

Harry stared. Instead of being blank, the wall now held a projected image of the scene Draco had interrupted in the hospital wing. Apparently he had snapped it before the door blew shut. Harry was shocked by the level of hope in his photographic self's eyes. _Talk about open book_.

The image flickered and faded, but Harry stayed looking at the wall. Then he grabbed Draco's wand from the side and ran out of the kitchen, passing through the living room to the study, shutting the door behind him. Scouring the desk, he found what he was looking for in a matter of seconds: a blank piece of parchment. He tapped the wand to it, mumbled a few incomprehensible words and the image spilled out onto the surface of the paper.

The door opened once more.

Harry turned reluctantly and handed Draco back his wand.

"It'll never happen, Dray, so please just let it go," he whispered, folding the parchment up and slipping it into his pocket alongside the scan photo.

The other man sighed, then draped an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Come on, back to the kitchen with you."

* * *

Harry woke up disorientated. It took him a moment to realise that he was in Draco's spare room and another moment to figure that he must have dosed off on the sofa the night before.

"Draco?"

No answer. Harry rolled out of bed, moving as slowly as possible. Apparently that wasn't enough, as he immediately had to dash to the bathroom to throw up. He couldn't wait until all this sickness was over. When it finally eased up, Harry sat on the cool tiles, feeling far too lazy to get up again. Instead, he pulled his two photos out of his pocket - Draco had obviously decided to just throw Harry, fully clothed into bed - and gazed at them. The first photo was practically imprinted on his brain by now, he had looked at it so often. The second seemed more like a made up drawing than an actual photo. He pocketed both after a while and stood to leave.

When he made it to the Great Hall, he quickly spotted the others at the Gryffindor table. Ginny, he noticed, was sitting a little farther from Draco today, leaving the space opposite him free. Harry had occupied the seat for all of ten seconds before a large barn owl descended on him, dropping a letter into his lap.

"It's from Sirius and Remus," he said, recognising the handwriting.

"Is it an answer to your letter, do you suppose?" Hermione leaned across the table to see better.

"No, it can't be. I never sent them one."

"What?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. It just slipped my mind."

"Well, open it then."

--

_Dear Harry, _

_How are you? I hope school isn't too arduous. Sorry about the lack of letters - we've been busy renovating Grimmauld Place, although you'd never know it. It still looks just as worn-down as before, but we'll get there eventually. _

_I hear from Dumbledore that your group has 'adopted' Draco Malfoy. Good for you - he turned out to be a decent guy in the war. I hope you'll invite him round to this ramshackle place - what's he doing over Christmas? I know his family have disowned him, and we thought he might like to come stay here. It's up to you of course. _

_Now, about the holidays. Sirius, bless him, has gone and booked us a skiing holiday in France. He meant it to be a surprise, but it lasted all of three minutes, before he just _had _to tell me. Anyway, we're leaving this evening and we won't be back until the 20th of December. Apparently he completely forgot that you broke up on the 17th. He's in the doghouse for that I can assure you. I hope you won't think I'm too fussy, but I'd really rather you didn't stay here without us. I know the danger's passed now, but I can't help feeling you're still vulnerable. Sorry. I spoke to the Weasleys and Grangers, and they all agreed that Ron and Hermione would stay with you until we get back, then we'll come and pick you all up at about 3.00pm and take you home for a giant party with their families too. To make up for abandoning you all. _

_I hope that's ok with you. If not, you could stay at the Weasleys, but Molly said her house will be full to bursting at that point - she's got all of the family staying and then some. We said you wouldn't take it amiss. Besides, we're both keen to see the school again. _

_Once again, we're really_, really _sorry. Send our love to the others (Draco included). _

_Love you, puppy._

_Remus and Sirius_

_--_

Harry read the letter aloud once he'd been through it. "Poor Remus, he really does take the world on his shoulders. He knows I'm quite content to stay a few extra days at school. You don't mind do you guys?"

"No," chorused Ron and Hermione.

"It's not like I have anywhere better to be," said Draco dully.

"Hey, no self-pity at the breakfast table, if you please. Besides, you get to stay with us at Hogwarts and then I'm dragging you back to Grimmauld Place for the entire rest of the holidays. Even if I have to use Remus and his inhuman strength to keep you there."

"S'ok, I'll be fine."

"Yeah you will...at Grimmauld Place."

"No, I don't want to impinge on your time with your godfathers."

"Didn't you hear? We have half the world over for Christmas apparently. And," Harry leaned closer and whispered, "it's not as if I didn't do that with you and your godfather." Straightening up, he played his ace: "Besides, I'll need moral support in case Remus and Sirius decide to kill me for ...you know."

"Harry, don't be silly. You know they'll be thrilled once they hear," said Hermione bossily.

"I'm not so sure about that. They'll probably think I've thrown my life away or something."

"Neither of them have ever been concerned with what you _should _do in your life. All they want is for you to be happy, and considering last year I'd say you've earned it."

"We'll see when I tell them."

"When are you going to do that?" asked Ron, "Do you think you could get a letter to them before they leave?"

"Probably, but it won't do any good. I don't really want to tell them in a letter. I suppose it'll have to wait now until they get back."

"Hmm. That might be difficult, considering everyone will be at yours for Christmas."

"Well, I was going to tell your family anyway Ron, and yours too Hermione, if you think they won't freak at the idea. But I do want to tell Sirius and Remus before then. I'll have to do it here, when they come to pick us up."

"Sounds like a plan, Harry. And don't worry," smiled Hermione, "my parents are kind of used to the weird stuff that we get into by now."

"Good. Have you got a pen, 'Mione?"

Draco looked amused, "Why would she have a pen at breakf-" He stopped when Hermione procured a biro from her pocket. "I give up with you, Hermione," he muttered as she smirked at him.

Harry penned a quick reply on the torn off end of the letter, assuring Remus that he and the others would be more than happy to stay at Hogwarts and that they'd see them in the Entrance Hall on the 20th.

* * *

_**AN: **ok, this is a superbly long chapter! yay! it's to make up for the slow updates. i hope you lke it. _

_i know, i know, sev hasn't found out yet. i promise he will soon. even sooner if you review! lol_

_i apologise if there are any major discrepancies in this chapter - i wanted to get it loaded, so i could get the next one up soon, but that means i haven't checked it all too well and i'm very tired right now; it's 2.46 in the morning. can't sleep cos i'm getting my AS results later today screams in terror_

_good luck to anyone else out there who's getting their results today. _

_so gnight and review please!_


	13. Fated

**--- Chapter 13 ---  
Fated**

_Fated (adj): i) unavoidable  
ii) doomed_

The next week passed by and Saturday rolled around, bringing with it Harry's next appointment with Poppy. This time it was a scan to show him the gender of the baby. He had decided to find out, so he went with Ron, Hermione and Draco that afternoon. When they got to the infirmary, the matron was just giving a second year a potion, apparently to clear up the scales he had managed to procure during his transfiguration lesson. They waited until the student had left, then Harry hopped eagerly onto one of the beds near the back of the room that was obscured from the door by a curtain. The others clustered around him and Poppy went to get her scanner, smiling to herself.

"Right, I'll do the same procedure as last time, then I'll tell you the gender and finally I can show you a 3D-projection of your baby. How does that sound?"

"Incredible," laughed Harry, "By the way, how certain is the gender?"

"Completely certain. Magic instruments work in a different way to muggle ones - I won't bore you with how. But it will give you a definite answer."

"Brilliant. Let's do it!" Harry hastily unbuttoned his shirt causing everyone else to laugh.

"Not eager at all are you?" said Ron.

"I'm glad to see you're finally showing, Harry. Not much, but then that's to be expected - male pregnancies tend progress slower at the beginning. How's the morning sickness?"

"I think it's over. I hope so anyway - I haven't been ill since Tuesday. Am I really showing?"

"A little bit," said Hermione.

Harry just grinned.

Of course, life being what it is, and fate seeming to have a sneaky plan to meddle in Harry's life, it was just as Poppy was about to start the scan that Severus once again entered the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey stopped as soon as she heard the door open and peered round the curtains.

"Ah, Professor Snape, it's just you."

"Just?"

"I meant that you're not someone we need to worry about; Harry's here"

"I see."

Hermione, Ron and Draco all looked at Harry who just rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact that life wouldn't leave him alone. Snape walked past the bed with a tray of potions in his arms, heading for the store room. He glanced briefly at Harry as he went.

Poppy meanwhile ignored him, and picked up the scanner again.

"Ok, here we go."

Harry instinctively grabbed Draco's hand - he was closest.

After about a minute of whirring from the strange contraption, Poppy looked up and smiled.

"Ready?" she asked.

Harry just nodded. A lot.

The store room door opened and Snape stepped out, moments before Poppy said, "It's a girl, Harry."

Harry was lost in a sea of arms the next minute, as his three friends all bent down to hug him at once. A girl. He was going to have a girl. Suddenly it was all very real.

As his friends slowly drew back, all congratulating him and smiling, Harry saw Snape at the foot of his bed.

"Congratulations, Harry," he said with a smile.

"Th-thank you."

"Ok, are you ready for the next bit?" asked Poppy as Snape walked away.

Harry looked dazedly at her before saying, "Yeah, can I see her please?"

* * *

The rest of term passed quickly after that. Harry spent a lot of evenings that week looking at his second scan photo and grinning. Draco caught him once muttering to his stomach, and shook his head, laughing.

Poppy had decided that he could wear a glamour if he thought it was necessary now. Harry used it the week after his scan, paranoid that everyone would notice, despite his friends' assurances that his robes concealed his ever increasing waistband. Poppy had also said that he might begin to feel flutterings in his stomach as the baby started to move around in a couple of weeks, but there was nothing as of yet.

Before Harry knew it, the term was over and he, Hermione, Ron and Draco were the only students left in the school. After the war, family time had become incredibly important in the wizarding world, so the other students were all at home.

* * *

Harry was waiting in the entrance hall nervously on the 20th. He had Draco, Hermione and Ron there for support, but he wasn't sure he was up to the challenge quite yet. He didn't know how his godfather would take the news.

Suddenly, the doors opened and Remus and Sirius strode in, followed by a flurry of snow. Remus looked straight at Harry for a moment, a expression of curiosity and confusion on his face. Obviously, Harry realized, his werewolf instincts had already informed him of 'the big news', although Harry never saw the tentative smile that picked at the corners of Remus' mouth. At that moment, Sirius came bounding towards him, blissfully unaware of any difference in his godson.

"Harry!"

"Siri!" Harry was swept up in a tight embrace then lifted off the floor and swung round. Draco, Ron and Hermione all started forward at this, but it was Remus' voice that said, quietly but firmly, "Put him down, Sirius"

Sirius placed Harry on his feet once more, as Draco and Hermione rushed forwards to steady him. Sirius meanwhile turned to look quizzically at Remus.

"You've never objected before."

"Yes, well, that was then and this is now," said Remus cryptically.

"It's so good to see you guys again," said Harry quickly, "You have to come and see Draco's rooms before we go. We've got biscuits and cakes for tea if you want too."

With that Harry dragged them all off. They walked along the corridors, keeping a merry conversation going about how the rooms had been formed. It was good for Harry to see Sirius and Remus accept Draco – they'd seen him fighting in the war for their side which helped. Still, Harry figured Remus must have had words with Sirius before they came – his godfather never was one for thinking rationally.

Finally, they came to the rooms, and Harry opened them, feeling decidedly nervous.

"Tea anyone?" asked Harry.

A general murmur of approval greeted this suggestion and Harry started to walk towards the kitchen. He was stopped by way of Ron's hand pulling him back.

"It's ok, Harry, I'll go."

Sirius looked from Ron to Harry and back again, struggling to comprehend the subtle meaning behind Ron's words. Something was definitely different, he surmised.

_Well_, thought Harry, _here goes I suppose._

Clearing his throat a little, he took a deep breath and said, shakily, "I have something I need to tell you both."

He took another breath, although it did little to steady his nerves. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and what he said next came out as a rush. "I-I'm pregnant. And before you ask: yes, I'm keeping her; no, I won't tell you who the other father is and yes, this _is_ what I want."

Sirius stood silently, his mouth hanging open a little. No-one in the room dared to move, all waiting for Sirius' response. Remus, it seemed, was also waiting for Sirius, perhaps not feeling it prudent that he talk before Harry's godfather. Eventually, Sirius swallowed and looked straight into Harry's eyes, "You're sure, Harry?"

"Yeah,"

"Aren't you a little . . . young?"

"Wasn't I a 'little young' to duel a dark lord?"

There weren't many responses to that. Sirius didn't even try.

Harry could almost feel the nervous tension in the room, though it was nothing compared to how he felt. If Sirius didn't accept this . . .

"Y-you're really happy about this? Because no-one expects anything from you – this is your life now, to do with as you want."

Harry felt his hands come up to cover his abdomen protectively. Slowly, he whispered, "Yes, Siri. I want this more than I ever knew."

"Then congratulations!" Sirius reached over and pulled Harry, once more, into a warm embrace. Harry was utterly motionless, paralyzed to the spot, even as Sirius pulled away, smiling broadly at him. "I'm going to be a great-godfather, or something."

Harry looked over at Remus, who smiled too and winked. He mouthed 'congratulations', as Sirius proceeded to make up new titles for himself.

Harry looked around the room, at all the people there. Tears slid softly down his cheeks. Remus moved straight over to him and sat him down on the sofa. The movement caught Sirius' eye as well as everyone else's. A silence fell over the room, as Harry's friends looked on with concern plastered across each of their faces, but Remus didn't seem to notice as he took one of Harry's hands, looking intently at the emotional boy beside him.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

No verbal answer came, but Harry leant against the older wizard's shoulder, half burying his face in the robes. His body shook ever so slightly with sobs.

"Harry?" Sirius this time. He dropped to his knees in front of the sofa.

Slowly, Harry raised his head a little, although he kept his eyes downcast. "It's nothing. I-I just . . . I didn't expect . . . are you sure you're not mad?"

"Oh gods, Puppy, of course we're not." Sirius put his hand on top of Harry's free one, "How could we be? If this is what you want, if this is something that makes you happy, then there's nothing more we could wish for. Besides, when you said you needed to talk to us, I was running a million worse scenarios through my head - I'm actually a little relieved. Shocked, yes, but relieved."

Remus tucked a finger under Harry's chin and tilted his face up towards him. He reached out to brush the tears from Harry's face. "You should keep a bit more faith in your ridiculous godfather," he said gently, giving a little grin, and even getting a watery one in return.

Harry took a deep breath, then looked bashfully around the room. "Sorry," he muttered, "hormones and everything."

"It's ok, you're allowed some turns. I daresay your friends will be run ragged with your mood swings soon enough."

Draco groaned.

"Now," said Sirius, bouncing up off the floor to sit beside Harry on the sofa, "tell me, how far along are you? And did you say it was going to be a girl?"

Harry smiled at the enthusiasm, "Yeah, it's a girl. And I'm exactly four months along today."

"Four months, Harry? How come you haven't started to show?"

Harry chuckled, and winked at his friends before reaching for his wand and taking off the glamour. No sooner had he done so than Sirius gasped and started fawning over Harry's now noticeable bump.

* * *

It wasn't until they were leaving that Harry had to talk about the other father. They were walking back to the entrance hall to leave, luggage in tow (Hermione was levitating it down the corridors), when Remus held him back. Sirius and the rest barely noticed as Sirius told yet more stories of Lily's infamous mood swings and cravings when she had Harry.

"Harry, I don't want you to have to tell us who the other father is if you don't want to, but . . . is he . . . going to help you with this?"

Harry stared down at the floor and shook his head. Still, he didn't think somehow that this was the real question Remus had wanted to ask.

"I take it you're not together anymore then." Remus' eyebrows knitted together in a frown, and he took a deep breath before saying, barely above a whisper, "I just need to know . . . did he force you?"

"No, he didn't."

Remus' features relaxed as relief swept over him, "I just needed to check. You're so important to Sirius and I, and we don't want to see you hurt, that's all. And we'll be here for you whenever you need us, you know that. Anytime you want us, just call. For whatever reason."

Tears threatened to escape once more. "Ugh Remmy, you'll set me off again," muttered Harry before hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeves, "Thanks. That . . . well, it means a lot."

"No problem. Now let's catch up with the others shall we, before your godfather finally realises we're missing."

They moved at a swift pace, to join the back of the group, as they neared the entrance hall. No sooner had they fallen in step with the rest than Sirius turned around, pulling Harry forwards to walk with him.

"Harry, I don't suppose anyone's told you about me dropping you as a baby, eh? Then again, not many people knew – I certainly never told them, but I think Moony might have. It was when you were about seven months, you were just so wriggly then and-"

Suddenly, Sirius' grin faded, along with his words. Harry took about two seconds to see why – right ahead of them, across the hall, stood Severus.

"You," they each spat contemptuously, taking a step forwards.

Harry moved with Sirius, walking backwards ahead of him.

"Siri, don't. Please, leave it."

"Hey there, Snivellus. How's your pathetic life treating you?"

The two men now stood but a few feet apart, with Harry standing defiantly between them.

"Black," hissed Snape.

Somehow, it seemed that being at Hogwarts together just emphasised their hatred of each other – so much for neutral territory. Snape's eyes were full of menace. Harry didn't miss the hand gripping the handle of his wand either.

"Severus, don't start" he warned.

"'Severus'?" asked Sirius, half-caught between anger and disgust.

"Some people do have the decency to pronounce my name right, Black."

"And most Death Eaters had the decency to die."

In a trice, both men had raised their wands and shot curses at each other, around Harry . . . barely. Sirius' shot past Harry's right ear, while Severus' barely missed his left elbow.

"Expelliarmus," bellowed both Remus and Draco and both Sirius and Snape were left wandless. All of the surrounding group had started shouting at the two men, as Harry's eyes portrayed first shock, then pure anger. Shaky as it was, his voice carried above the others, cutting through the noise like a knife.

"What were you THINKING? Bad enough that you should both behave like that, but to fire curses while I was between you? Were they fucking child-friendly curses?"

"Harry, it wasn't-"

"NO! Don't try to apologise. Fuck you! Both of you!"

Harry strode to the doors, his footsteps echoing louder than should be possible off the walls, and slipped through. Both men tried to follow, calling him back. Of course, it's difficult to follow someone when you have a werewolf holding you back.

"No you don't. You two are staying here," growled Remus, pulling them back with inhuman strength.

Draco, Ron and Hermione had already run out of the doorway, the former still clutching Snape's wand. Realising this, he turned and threw it back into the hall, where it skidded across the floor to stop a long way off at Remus' feet. The werewolf pocketed it, then regained his hold on the two men.

"Harry?" called Hermione. The figure was only a short way ahead of them when he stopped.

"WHAT?" yelled the boy, his voice giving off nothing but anger.

No-one answered. Both Draco and Ron just stared at him, unwilling to suffer his wrath. After a while, Hermione walked tentatively forward and stretched out her hand to take hold of the boy's shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath.

"How could they?" he asked, sounding weary.

"I'm sure they didn't thin-"

"But they _knew_, 'Mione. Even if they weren't thinking, they still knew."

There wasn't much to say to that, so Hermione just rubbed Harry's shoulder in a placating way for a while.

"Ugh, I can't believe they're still this way. After all these years, you'd think they'd just sort it all out."

"Yeah well that's them for you. Two incredibly stubborn men," said Ron.

Harry sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I don't know what I'm going to do if Sirius ever asks about the child's father. I can't lie to Sirius, so I'll have to hope he never asks. He'd slaughter Snape if he found out the child was his."

"You WHAT?" came a voice.

* * *

Remus picked up the wand from the floor, before taking a hold of Sirius' arm once more.

"Now," he said, "listen to me, the pair of you. You're supposedly adults, right? Then start acting like it. I've had enough of this feud, and I'd be willing to bet that Harry has too. What you did just now wasn't just immature, it was dangerous too."

The werewolf stood staring at the two men before him, shook his head and let go of them. Thankfully neither moved.

"You're not getting your wands back yet. Severus is going to wait with me, while you go and get Harry back, Sirius. I want you _both _to apologize to him . . . and you're going to mean it too. But first, I want you to shake hands like civilised human beings. We'll leave it at that for the time being."

Still neither one moved.

"Do it," growled the werewolf.

Slowly, the men shook hands, looking as if the very act pained them. The contact lasted for a maximum of two seconds, but it was enough for now.

"Good. Now go and find Harry, Sirius. He shouldn't have gotten too far."

The animagus turned. If he had been in his dog form, Remus had no doubt he would have slunk out of the main doors, tail between his legs.

Sirius saw his godson not too far ahead of him, and felt a wave of guilt. Yes, he hated Snape, but Remus was right - that had been downright dangerous.

However, the feeling of guilt was almost completely forgotten as he heard what Harry was saying:

"I can't lie to Sirius, so I'll have to hope he never asks."

The older wizard was quite close to the group, none of whom had seen him yet, when he stopped dead in his tracks at the next sentence.

"He'd slaughter Snape if he found out the child was his."

Sirius blood ran cold. Then it began to boil.

"You WHAT?" he said angrily. This was going too far. That dirty, greasy . . .

He whipped around and strode quickly back through the recent tracks in the snow.

"Sirius?" called Harry.

"Where's he going?" asked Ron, a moment before Draco said,

"Shit! Severus . . ."

Harry's eyes went wide as saucers, as he stared at the blond. Then to the retreating form of his godfather.

"Sirius!"

The man ignored the cry behind him. Taking the steps to the doors two at a time he yelled, "SNAPE!"

Remus and Severus both turned to see Sirius approaching with a terrible look on his face, followed closely by the others. Draco, Ron and Hermione all looked terrified but none as ghostly pale as Harry. The emerald-eyed boy grabbed hold of his godfather's arm.

"Pleas-" he started, before Sirius cut across him.

"YOU! You dirty, filthy . . . _you_ did this to him!"

"No, Sirius, pl-"

"You knocked up my godson, you bastard."

There was silence. Remus stared at Sirius, not taking in what he had heard. Harry turned slowly to look at Severus.

"I assure you Black, I did no such thing."

"Oh, of course. Then why the hell did I just overhear Harry saying you did?"

At which point, every single pair of eyes fixed on the boy.

"Severus, I-I can explain. I was going to tell you, but then y-"

"It's true?" the man hissed.

"I didn't think you'd want t-"

"Is. It. True?" asked Snape again, anger mounting in his voice.

Harry looked him straight in the eye.

"Yes."

The word tumbled from Harry's mouth. In its wake, all he could do was stand there, silently surveying the commotion. Sirius roared and tried to leap at Snape, only to find himself pinned to the wall by Remus. Severus turned abruptly on his heel and strode off to, presumably, the dungeons, without a glance behind. Draco looked worriedly at Harry, whose knees were rapidly threatening to give way. The blond stepped towards him, but Ron and Hermione were there sooner, supporting Harry by the elbows. After another look of concern towards the crumbling boy, Draco set off in pursuit of his godfather.

* * *

_**AN: **YAY! it's finally happened. i know you've all wanted Snape to find out for aaaages, so sorry for the wait. i really hope you like it! it took a lot of sorting out in my head, trying to get sirius and remus to be near snape but at a point when there was no-one else around etc. :s_

_anyways, this is now my third very rapidly uploaded chapter, and a pretty darn long one at that, so don't you all think i deserve some little reviews? Pretty please??_


	14. Hope

[s] ... [/s] denotes strikethrough

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--- Chapter Fourteen ---  
Hope

_[s] Hope (n): a person, thing or circumstance that gives cause for hope [/s]_

_[s] Hope (n): the belief or expectation that something wished for can or will happen [/s]_

It was hope that found Draco Malfoy, ex-Prince of Slytherin, pelting through hidden doorways and down secret passages, his usually perfect hair flying in all directions. He hoped that if he could beat Severus down to the dungeons, he might be able to keep him from disappearing into his rooms. Despite the fact that the route his godfather had taken was a lot shorter, Draco stood a chance: he was probably the only one running like a madman.

Draco skidded to a halt in front of the door to Severus' rooms and hammered on it. No reply. Either he was being given the silent treatment by a grown man, or he was here first. The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor proved the latter.

The platinum haired young man drew his wand and planted his feet firmly in front of the door, settling his features into a look of defiance.

An air of anger and frustration surrounded the approaching figure - it couldn't have been more noticeable if a dark raincloud hovered above him, shooting lightning bolts. A scowl furrowed deeper into his brow than usual, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides as he strode down the stone corridor. He was so preoccupied by his thoughts, Snape didn't notice the youth outside his quarters until he was just a few feet away.

"Get out of my way."

"No."

Severus fixed him with a glare that could have melted granite. "I won't repeat myself again, Draco. _Get out of my way_."

"I can't."

"What?" seethed Snape.

"You need to talk to Harry, let him explain. Then I'll go."

"Explain? What is there to explain? He lied, he-" the man snapped his mouth shut, fighting to regain his composure. After a deep breath, he bit out, "Unless you actually have a death wish, move."

"He'll be here soon."

Right on cue, they heard a girl call "Harry" as the boy in question rounded the corner into the corridor. He was followed almost immediately by Ron, and then Hermione. As they drew nearer, the two at the back slowed, stopping a short distance away from the three men now at the entrance to Severus' chambers.

"Severus, I'm sorry. I can explain."

"I don't want to hear it," muttered the older wizard in a monotone.

"But I-"

"No." The force behind that one word was more than sufficient to shut Harry up, "Both of you, leave. I don't have the patience to deal with silly timewasters and, Mr Malfoy, I will not hesitate in hexing you if you remain in that position for much longer."

"Professor Snape, you can't-" started Hermione. Ron clapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. Glancing at Snape for a mere nanosecond, he muttered, "Draco, maybe now's not the time..."

The other boy nodded before the sentence was even finished, melting away from the door.

Harry stepped up, "Timewaster?" Snape muttered his password. "Don't you even have the courtesy to listen to what I have to say?"

Severus stopped, his hand clenched around the doorknob. "Courtesy?" he spat, "Get a dictionary, Potter. You might find 'hypocrite' in it too."

"I'm sorry, just please, I need you to hear me out."

This time, Severus let go of the door, turning to face the boy beside him. "'You need'...? You have got to be one of the most self-obsessed people I have ever had the misfortune to meet," he hissed, "Everyone listens when you deign to open your mouth, right?"

"What? All I want-"

"'I _want_' doesn't get," mocked Snape bitterly. Then as an afterthought he added coldly, "A lesson I'm sure your father never learned either."

"Don't you dare-" started Harry, but Snape cut him short.

"I speak as I find."

The boy rocked back on his feet, levelling his gaze at the other man. "Oh? And if you found me so 'self-obsessed', so _distasteful_...why did you sleep with me? Or do you just make it a habit to bed at least one student a year?"

Carefully, calculatingly, Snape looked at Harry's stomach, then back to his face. "Even if I did, I'm sure you're the only one who could fuck up quite so spectacularly."

A moment later the door slammed shut in Harry's face.

_

* * *

_

Knock, knock.

"Harry?"

A bushy haired head appeared around the door. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed at Grimmauld Place, his spine arched forwards.

"Hi."

Fingers twitched in greeting, before returning to unpicking the bedspread.

"I've got your trunk here - Draco left it outside." She entered the room, dragging the heavy load behind her

"Oh. Thanks," he muttered.

She set the case down just inside the room. "Remus said supper will be at eight." She paused.

Harry kept his head bowed, hair falling across it. "Anything else?"

"No, not really. I... um... I wondered how you're feeling."

"'M fine."

"It's just you've been up here for quite a while and, well..." she glanced at the pillow that currently lay on top of an overturned waste paper basket, then at the stack of parchment that had been strewn across the floor.

"I'll be down for supper." A black thread came loose in his hands.

"Ok." she faltered. "I guess I'll... uh, leave you." She made to leave, then turned at the door. "Seriously, are you sure you're..."

"I'm _fine._" He flicked the thread away.

"Oh." Her hand hovered by the door handle.

A sigh escaped Harry as he unfurled his legs. "I'm gonna have a shower before we eat."

"Right, I'll...just..." She left.

The boy waited a few minutes before he wrestled his trunk open, grabbed some stuff and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he leaned back against the door, glancing into the mirror. A dishevelled looking youth with tousled black hair and red-rimmed eyes gazed balefully back. He sunk slowly to the ground, knees buckling beneath him.

_Breathe in...breathe out..._

He wrapped his arms around his stomach and closed his eyes. In his darkened vision he started seeing the afternoon again, and in the silence he heard those words. The floor felt cold beneath him, and he stretched out to the side, resting his face on the smooth tiles. The words were louder down here, the sights clearer, but he pressed his face closer to the floor and bit his cheek. He wouldn't cry. Not again.

He forced his eyes open and lay there, staring across the cracks in the floor. Every so often, a thought would catch at him, and his eyes would well up but he fought to keep himself in check.

_Breathe in...breathe out..._

Someone would come and get him for supper soon. Dragging himself bit by bit to his feet, he stumbled to the sink and grabbed the tap. Water splashed all over him. He turned the tap off and leaned forward with a sigh. His pathetic reflection looked out at him, catching his eye whenever possible. It shrieked for pity and Harry obliged, clutching at the sink for support.

_Knock knock._

"Harry?"

He looked up into the mirror again, focussing in on the door's reflection.

"Are you in there? Harry?"

The knocking started afresh. He groaned and swiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, before moving to unlock the door.

"Hmm?" he murmured at the shoes outside.

"Look at me," asked Remus. Harry did so, very reluctantly. "Oh Harry," he breathed. The boy stiffened as he was swept up into a hug.

"I'm fine, Remus." He pulled back, forcing the man to release him.

"No, you're not. It must have been horrible for you."

"It's alright." He stepped back.

"If you say so. You can have supper up here if you want, you don't have to come down."

Harry glared at him defiantly. "I _said_ I'm fine. I'll be down in a second, ok?"

"Don't feel you have to. I know how you must be feeling right n-"

Harry shut the door and listened to the footsteps retreating.

_Breathe in...breathe out..._

The air was sucked in through gritted teeth. He managed to find a flannel amongst his strewn belongings, and doused it with water. His face cooled as he pressed it to his eyes, the water trickling down his cheeks and neck, pooling in his shirt. When he was halfway decent and slightly calmer he grabbed the rest of his stuff and went to throw it into his room, before making his way downstairs. The others were already seated as he slid in between Draco and Ron.

Supper was very quiet that night. Ron and Hermione's families weren't arriving until lunchtime the next day apparently, so it was just the six of them for the night. Harry listened half-heartedly to the strained attempts at conversation and pushed his food round his plate until the table was cleared. Since it was still reasonably early, Sirius made some tea and they all milled around in the expansive kitchen until Hermione dragged him and Remus off to look at their photos from the holiday. Ron caught the girl's eye on the way out and made his way over to Harry's corner.

"Hey."

Harry looked up.

"Do you want some more?" asked Ron, gesturing at his cup.

He shook his head.

"'Kay." Ron stood to one side, sipping his own tea. "For what it's worth," he blurted out a few minutes later, "you'll be better off without him."

Unseen, Draco winced into his mug.

"I mean, it wasn't really going to last was it. You two are just...different."

Harry set his mug down on the table, turning for the door.

"You'll find someone else, mate. I mean, if Hermione and I can-"

"Yeah thanks," bit out Harry, cutting him off, "I'm going to see where the others are."

"Ok," he heard Ron say as he was leaving.

Instead of going to the sitting room, he grabbed a cloak and went into the garden. Snow was falling again, the ground mostly white in the dim light. Harry pulled some twigs off the small tree outside the door, snapping them into little bits as he went.

* * *

About ten minutes later a figure joined him on the bench.

Harry cast a sidelong glance at it. "I'm fine," he muttered swiftly.

"I know."

They sat in silence, just looking at sky littered with stars and snowflakes.

"Did you want something?" Harry half-whispered. He saw a shake of the other man's head.

The words ceased again. Neither man moved.

"You'll get cold," stated Harry.

"So will you," retorted the figure.

"I don't mind."

"Neither do I."

The night was eager to claim back its silence, filling the garden with it once again. Harry ran the tip of his finger over the snow that had collected on the arm of the bench. Absent-mindedly he traced an S into it, over and over again, all the while looking at the sky.

Suddenly, he beat his fist on the bench, causing a little flurry of snow. "Damn it!" He ran both hands through his hair, gripping it in his fingers. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Leaning forwards, he resting his elbows on his knees and pressed his eyelids to the heels of his hands.

The figure turned silver eyes on him.

"It's not..." he stopped, twisting his hands. His lungs drew in a breath of icy air then he whispered, "It's not meant to hurt this much anymore, Draco." A couple of tears leaked out, running over his wrists. A hand touched his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Harry reached his own hand back to rest on it, his forehead now resting on the other.

They sat there like that, pale against the darkness all around. A few more tears fell with the snow, sinking into Harry's cloak. The slight trembling in his shoulders might well be passed off as coldness, the ragged breaths caused by the chill in the air...

Eventually, an owl hooted, breaking the silence. Harry raised his head and turned away, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes on a sleeve. When he cast a glance at Draco through his hair, the boy was still just gazing at the stars.

Harry got up, gathering the cloak around him as he walked away. Draco made to follow, then stooped to pick up something from the snow. It was a fragment of a photo, the corner of a hospital bed just visible on it.

_Hope (n): the hardest thing to lose_

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_**AN: **hey, sorry about the slow update. i have had such an awful time with this chapter- it's been driving me nuts. i think i'm cursed - i couldn't write chapter 14 for BbA either :p_

_anyhoos, 'tis up now :D i'm not sure what's going to happen next, so the next update might be a bit slow. my apologies_

_you may have noticed that i've titled this chapter. in fact, i've titled all of them. each chapter now has a title and a definition of the title. (annoyingly i can't use strikethroughs on FF, but you'll have to imagine them where appropriate). go check the new titles!_

_once again, i thank my beta-reader, Etheral. she's had a week filled with me begging her to read my latest chapter version, demanding feedback and generally whining about everything in this chapter. i may have been a little obsessed with it - it's annoyed me so much_

_please review! look, shiny new review button! clicky clicky_


	15. Game

**--- Chapter Fifteen ---  
Game**

_Game (adj): spirited, eager and willing_

_Game (n): __a hunted animal, a quarry or object of pursuit or attack_

_Game (n): a form of play or sport, esp. a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength ...or luck_

_"Ok, you know what to do?"_

_"Yep"_

_"Good. Let's go."_

_Harry tried to conceal his smirk as he set off down the stairs, his partner in crime following behind. As they neared the target door, he switched to 'stealthy mode', trying not to laugh as both he and the other boy tiptoed down the last bit of the corridor, keeping to the wall. They were, of course, master criminals: never seen, never heard, invisible to al-_

_"Ow," hissed Draco as he stubbed his foot on a protruding floor tile. Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed the door handle, slipping into the room like a shadow. Or so he thought. _

_"What do you want?" muttered Snape, his gaze never leaving the cauldron in front of him. _

_"How'd you-"_

_Snape shot him a withering look. "You couldn't slip into a herd of hippogriffs without being heard." _

_Any doubt Harry might have harboured about their scheming vanished at that. Really, the man was too infuriating for his own good, although the black trousers and loose, white shirt he was currently wearing might go someway towards making amends..._

_He reluctantly pulled his eyes away, getting his now somewhat scrambled brain back in check. Regrouped (and ever the master of stealth), Harry raised two fingers on his left hand and shook them towards the opposite end of the bench. _

_Draco looked non-plussed. _

_If it wouldn't have destroyed the very sneaky atmosphere, Harry would have cuffed him round the back of the head. As it was, he just pointed at the boy and then again at the other side of the bench. He even adding a shooing motion, just to be sure. Finally, the blond cottoned on and snuck off in the correct direction, heading for a pile of raw ingredients. _

_"Did you want something?" asked Severus, his voice a little terse. _

_Harry nodded to Draco behind Severus' back, feeling a little disappointed that they'd decided against using a code-phrase to start it all off. There just wasn't the same sort of satisfaction elicited from a nod. Still, it did the job._

_Draco pointed at a rather sickly looking green root. "What's this?" _

_There was a look of mild confusion on Snape's face as he replied, "That's arcsbane root, as well you kno-"_

_"And this?"_

_"Knurlwo-"_

_"What about this?"_

_Snape set his wand down with a thud, and moved to grab Draco's hand, just before it touched a lump of what looked like glowing coal. _

_"That is not to be touched. What's gotten into you?" It was almost sweet, the way you could tell from the tiniest frown on Severus' forehead that he was already sorting through any possible explanation for his godson, self-professed potions genius, to be acting as though he knew nothing. Or, at least, next to nothing; Harry _still_ couldn't have told him which one was arcsbane root. It was just as well his part didn't require any knowledge. Just well-aimed idiocy._

_"Are you going to add this next?" he asked, holding small red chunks of ...something over the potion. _

_In an instant, Snape was back over at his workstation, Harry's hand firmly wrapped in his. "No," he said with exaggerated patience, "not yet." He emptied the hand he was holding back into the bowl, then dropped it, frowning at the owner. _

_Death-glaring would probably be a more appropriate verb. _

_Harry summoned up his most innocent expression and batted his eyelids. _That_ was enough to tip Snape over the edge of paranoia._

_"Get out. Both of you."_

_"Aww, but uncle Sevvy, we just wanted to help." The blond-haired boy added his best pout to that sentence, although Harry couldn't tell if it was the tone of voice or the use of the word 'Sevvy' that dragged Snape's gaze away from him. He did know that it meant he was free to pocket the unattended wand, and did so. _

_With style. _

_Snape looked between the two of them and counted to five in his head, clenching his teeth. "Alright, what will it take to get you to leave?"_

_"A game of hide and seek." Harry barely flinched as the man returned his glare to him. _

_"What?" Snape asked incredulously, "A game of...? Why?"_

_"I'm bored," shrugged the boy._

_"Wh-...just...hu-... no," sputtered the older wizard. _

_Bad move. _

_"Ok," trilled Draco happily, prancing over to a row of vials containing various, multi-coloured liquids. Harry wished he could have captured that moment on film. Although it had taken most of the morning to convince Draco that this was a) going to work and b) not going to get them killed, he seemed pretty happy to go along with it now. _He was practically skipping_**,**__ he thought, storing that image away in his mind before looking around for something else to play with. _

_Fifteen minutes later, the lab contained one very bad-tempered and slightly flustered potions master, one ruined potion, one up-ended bin, seventeen out-of-place jars of ingredients and a broken stool. Admittedly, the stool hadn't been part of the plan, but it seemed it wasn't up to being jumped on, not even if you needed to escape the wrath of a pretty livid Snape, as Draco had recently found out. Snape himself had resorted to insults, threats, reasoning, even guilt-tripping. He seemed to only have one thing left: bargaining._

_"Fine, you know what? You win." The look of pain on his face as he uttered those words was priceless. "One game of hide and see-"_

_"Two."_

_"_One_ game of h-" _

_Harry held out the vial he was currently holding, swinging it lightly in his fingers. It was probably a good thing Snape didn't still have his wand; he looked just about ready to murder the pair of them._

_"Fine," he bit out, "two games of hide and seek, and you'll stay out of here for the rest of the holidays."_

_Draco and Harry looked at each other, barely able to contain their grins._

_"Agreed," they chorused, with all the innocence of the devil himself. Snape swept out of his lab, wishing he was wearing robes that would billow behind him. He just didn't look furious enough without them. _

_Draco ducked out of the door and turned away as quickly as possible, getting out of reach of his godfather before he looked back. "I'll see you later then."_

_"Thanks, Dray"_

_"Wait, what?" said Severus, "Didn't you just demand-"_

_"Oh, I never wanted to play the game. I just joined in with the torture session." Draco smirked, then dashed off down the corridor and out of sight._

_Severus rubbed his face tiredly, muttering, "I'm going to kill him."_

_"But first, you're going to close your eyes and count to twenty," said Harry, grinning like a Cheshire cat whilst backing away slowly as one would from a dangerous animal. When Snape very reluctantly closed his eyes, glaring up 'til the last moment, Harry ran. He planned to get as far away as possible and hide for as long as he could. Unfortunately, it took less than five minutes for Snape to track Harry down. The wardrobe door creaking shut as he walked into the room helped somewhat. That and only counting to ten. _

_"You're good," grumbled Harry, stepping out of the folds of clothes. As Snape raised an eyebrow at him, he added, "Oh right... spy. I forgot that. Well it's your go."_

_"Whoop-dee-fucking-do. First, my wand if you please?"_

_"Promise not to hex me?"_

_Severus sighed, "...Fine."_

_Harry reluctantly handed it over, unable to quash the feeling that that was a big mistake. There was an odd spark in Snape's eye as he said, "Close your eyes then, I haven't got all day."_

_"One... two... three..."_

_Time, Severus decided, to put his experience to good use. If he was going to be forced into this ...pantomime, he was damn well going to win. Moving with the stealth of a cat, he backtracked along the corridor he had just walked down and headed for the library. There, he grabbed his book and, listening carefully to the footsteps above him, chose the back staircase to make his way to his bedroom. He closed the door silently, locked it and settled onto the bed to read. _

_About ten pages later, he heard someone approaching. _No guesses who that might be_, he thought. He picked up his wand from beside him and waited as the door creaked open. _

_"Confundus," he muttered as the figure outside came into his sights. Harry's eyes glazed over a little, then he looked helplessly around before wandering away again with an idiotic air about him. _No changes there then._ Snape smirked, then snatched up his book; he was perilously close to enjoying himself. _

_As for Harry, he wound up in the kitchen, confused and then, after a brief period of consideration, pissed off. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a fun idea after all. Working back through his jumbled thoughts, he realised the last place he remembered going to was the master bedroom. With that, he squared his shoulders and set off up the stairs again. He crept along the corridor, hoping to sneak into the room unheard. When he once again found himself in a remote corner of the house (this time it was the smallest sitting room) with no memory of how he got there, he remembered that he had never, in all his many years, snuck up on Snape. Sure, he could avoid him like the plague if he had his invisibility cloak, but he failed rather miserably at trying to get close without being found out. That left one other option: surprise attack. _Third time lucky,_ he thought, resigned to the fact that he was hopelessly outclassed._

_Taking the stairs two at a time, he charged down the corridor, all thoughts of subterfuge gone. He crashed into the door frame, swung the door open and ducked the hex winging towards him. The next, logical step was of course to get his own wand out and throw up a shield. In fact that would have been the logical step before now, his brain helpfully supplied. That being the case, he threw himself on top of the man on the bed and wrestled his wand off him. No-one could say he didn't commit himself to the idiot act. Although, this tactic definitely had it's advantages. For one, he wasn't being subjected to the possibility of a very one-sided duel. For two, he was now straddling Severus. _

_Yep, it definitely wasn't all bad._

_"You were actually trying to win, weren't you," he teased, "You cheated ...at hide and seek."_

_"You destroyed my lab," countered Snape, "for no good reason, I might add."_

_"Systematically breaking your spirit isn't a good enough reason?"_

_Snape didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. He did, however, manage to flip them over and take both wands in one fluid motion. Harry merely grinned and wriggled free just enough to place a swift kiss on the man's nose._

_"You're insufferable, you know that?" he muttered, lowering his lips to meet the younger man's._

* * *

Harry woke, feeling oddly content. He stretched slowly, like a cat unfurling itself after a good nap. Blinking, he groped for his glasses on the table beside him before surveying his surroundings. He was in a small, cosy room with a rug covering most of the available floor space, his trunk just visible at the end of his bed. He could vaguely make out Hedwig's cage in the far corner, sitting near a pillow, an overturned bin and what looked like several pieces of former quills. That was when he remembered he wasn't at Snape Manor.

He groaned and thumped his head back onto the pillow.

* * *

_**AN:** hey guys. sorry about the slow update. i lost my inspiration a bit after i finished the last chapter, 'cause i wasn't thikning about where to take the story from there. but there is finally some fluffyness, even if it is only in a dream, so yay!_

_i hope i'll be quicker with the next update, but no promises. thanks for all the reviews, they really spurred me on to write this_


	16. Reason?

[s] ... [/s] denotes strikethrough

quick note: i don't know if mr and mrs granger's appearances were properly described in canon, but if they were i have ignored that and just made them up. hope no one minds :p

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--- Chapter Sixteen ---  
Reason?

_[s] Reason (vb): think logically [/s]_

_[s] Reason (vb): use an argument by way of persuasion [/s]_

_Reason (n): an explanation_

_Reason (n): a rational motive, cause or justification for an action_

Two floors below, Draco was just entering the kitchen. He prided himself on being infuriatingly awake in the mornings, which would explain how his hair managed to look damn near perfect at only 8 o'clock in the morning. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by the room's other two tousle-haired, bleary-eyed inhabitants.

"Morning," said Draco, opting for his most annoyingly chipper voice to start the day. Hermione did at least have the courtesy to flash him a half-smile, although Ron's mumbled greeting would probably have been indecipherable to a troll.

Heading for the cupboards under the countertop, he asked, "Are the others up yet?"

"Nope, don't think so."

There was a pause, as Draco opened one door, then the next to be presented with a jumble of every type of cooking utensil and non-essential foodstuff he'd ever known existed. "Then, do you know where they keep the bread?"

"Mmm." There was a shuffle of slipper clad feet, then a loaf was thrust into his hands.

"Where-" he was cut off as Hermione (at least he assumed it was her under all that hair) pointed at the bread bin on the side. Draco rolled his eyes, before starting in on the loaf with a bread knife that was handily already out on the counter. "I take it you're not really morning people then?" He couldn't help the smug tone that suffused his sentence.

"Honestly, I didn't get a huge deal of sleep." Draco saw Hermione's eyes flick up to the ceiling, while Ron nodded in agreement. The girl brushed her hair behind her ears, and took a sip of coffee before asking, "Did you speak to him at all last night?"

"Not a huge amount."

She sighed, looking miserably upwards again, "I just ...I feel so awful for him. I wish I could make it all better. Well, not me per se..." she trailed off, glancing at Draco, who had just taken a huge bite out of his slice of bread. His eyes widened and he swallowed hurriedly, choking out,

"What, _I'm_ supposed to fix this?"

"No, but you just ...you spend more time with him, don't you? I mean, Ron and I have each other and I guess we haven't really... well we've..." she stopped again.

Draco raked his hand through his hair. "You think you've what? Been deserting him or something?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

Hermione stared into her cup, her hair hiding her face, "Yes. No. I don't know."

The kitchen was horribly quiet now. Draco half wished someone would walk in and save him from this before he said something stupid. Instead, Ron just put his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder and continued explaining, "It used to be just us three, you see. Don't get me wrong," he started as Draco opened his mouth, "it's not that we don't want you with us. You're actually quite a decent human being, surprisingly enough. But it's tricky, with us going out now, we don't always see as much of Harry as we used to. I guess we don't know him as well you do now."

Draco looked at him in complete shock; he'd been friends with them for what, less than a year? "That's ridiculous. You guys are his best friends; it's always been that way. It's just this whole thing... I know Severus better than you two, so I can help more with that side of it. Nothing more than that."

Neither of them looked particularly convinced, and Draco sighed in frustration. He should have seen this coming, what with all the time he and Harry spent together nowadays. It wasn't his fault though, that while they'd been 'studying' in the library, Draco had helped Harry decide on the best strategy for coaching his team from the stands, or helped him with his homework when he got tired or... No, that wasn't fair; they had their own lives to lead. He tugged at his hair again, giving up completely on his earlier neatness, and looked at the pair before him.

"Look, for what it's worth, I know you mean well and you obviously care a great deal about him. That being the case, maybe you could try just talking to him. Don't smother him with questions about how he's feeling, just ...talk."

Hermione shuffled uncomfortably, then moved off towards the kettle. Draco winced mentally - he'd been in the corridor yesterday when Harry and Hermione were talking and had heard most of it before she came out and saw him. "I didn't mean that you'd done anything wrong, it was just an idea."

"I know," she said, keeping her eyes on the tap. Unable to say anything more without digging himself a bigger hole, Draco just watched her as she silently filled the kettle and set it on the stove.

Ron, meanwhile looked thoughtful, "I don't even understand all of this, though. I mean, Sirius shouldn't have told Snape that, I know. But Snape? He's said all that, and worse, before now."

"Yeah, but being rude in the classroom is completely different," said Draco as he joined Hermione, grabbing a mug and teabag for himself as she went to work on coffees for her and Ron. "This was personal," he added.

"It's _always_ personal with those two," said Ron, frustrated, dropping into a seat at the table.

Draco didn't answer, looking at the girl beside him. She rolled her eyes, but failed to keep the gratitude from her gaze. "No, it always used to be," she sighed, "Snape hasn't made any reference to his dad for ages."

"Yeah, so he's nasty again, big deal," countered the redhead, as he grabbed the milk, "It's still been worse before."

"No it hasn't," interjected Hermione, "Don't you see? It's the fact that he even brought it up again, regardless of how hurtful the actual comment may or may not have been. He only ever did it to get at Harry, to hurt him."

"So?"

"So," said Draco slowly, "the fact that he's resorted back to it is worse than when he was just mean all the time. It means what Harry did was apparently bad enough to negate the last year or so." The kettle continued to bubble happily on the stove, filling the room with its gurgles as the conversation withered into another awkward silence.

Ron finished adding half the world's sugar stock to his coffee and looked at Draco, shaking his head, "You know, however much sense you're making, you still sound like a ponce, Draco."

"Cheers," muttered the boy, taking a gulp from his tea, before realising that it was still boiling hot. He swore vehemently, eyes watering as Ron laughed.

"It's good to see you're not completely perfect," said Hermione, smiling even as Draco glared at her.

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open to admit a tetchy-looking Harry. His emerald eyes simmered behind his glasses, accenting the frown on his forehead. He made straight for the loaf of bread on the side and began to saw away at it. The others in the room had no way of knowing that he wasn't angry so much at the current turn of events, moreover he was annoyed to find his mind playing tricks on him in his sleep. Since getting his bearings after waking up, he'd felt the past day come crashing brutally down on him as his dream continued to tickle the corners of his conscious. He'd also remembered that the house was about to be invaded by a whole host of people. And all that made for a decidedly grumpy young man, who was currently, it seemed, trying to cut into the counter-top. He stopped, grabbing the piece of bread lying beside the knife and sighed before turning round and smiling half-heartedly at the others.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning back against the counter, "Bad night."

* * *

It wasn't until eleven that the first of their guests arrived. Sirius and Remus had come downstairs soon after Harry had, joining in with the general melee of breakfast making still going on in the kitchen. After that, Remus had set them all to working out the sleeping arrangements for the next few days, seeing as they were going to have many more people than bedrooms. All except for Sirius, that is, who had glowered all through making himself coffee and then stomped off back upstairs without a word. Remus apparently hadn't had a lot of success reasoning to him the night before.

The next few hours spun by in a whirl of camp-beds and chaos. Somewhere between Hermione being picked up and bodily thrown onto one of the beds by Ron and Draco and Ron flailing around in a duvet that seemed determined to keep him as its prisoner Harry perked up a little. Enough to hit Draco soundly around the head with a nearby pillow when he tried to tickle him.

Suddenly, a loud thump, followed almost instantly by an identical one, broke through from the sitting room below. They all walked in to find Fred and George hopelessly entangled on the floor in front of the Floo, Ginny resting across both of them obviously not letting either of them stand up.

"Uh hi," muttered George, straining his neck to see them as they all filed in through the door to stare, "We-"

"-just dropped in," said Fred into the carpet. The room was still for a nanosecond before it exploded into laughter. Ginny got gracefully to her feet and sauntered over to greet Remus.

"Mum sent us ahead to say that the rest will be over in a bit," she said, "Dad's going to send the luggage through in about ten minutes, so you might not want to be standing too close to the fire. Or lying near it," she smirked, looking back over her shoulder as her brothers slowly worked their way onto their feet, grumbling.

"Have I told you recently how glad I am to be in your good books, Gin?" muttered Harry. She just grinned and hugged him and Hermione as Ron went to help his brothers, still laughing. As Harry pulled back, he noticed Draco lurking behind him and stepped aside to allow Ginny access to him. She moved back from Hermione and turned to greet him.

"Hi," he said, stopping her dead in her tracks. It was several long seconds before she managed to mumble some sort of response, by which time they had an audience. A nosy, interfering audience.

"Aww, no hug for Draco?" chirped Fred, coming up behind his sister.

"Poor guy," added George, his face completely dead-pan. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or cringe as Ginny tried to hide her blush behind her hair. It was made worse when Draco, also a curious shade of red, attempted to help with a hug. It would have worked too, if it hadn't been one of those awkward, almost-head-butting type of hugs.

Remus was quick to dive into the silence that followed with an offer of something to drink. As he and the others left the room, Ron and Hermione carefully positioned so that Ginny couldn't kill her brothers, Harry whispered to Draco, "All you need now is a white horse and some shiny armour." Then he bolted.

* * *

True to his word, the luggage and Arthur Weasley tumbled through the fireplace ten minutes later at the same time as Hermione's phone rang. Her parents had mailed it to Grimmauld Place after she'd explained that the house was still invisible to Muggles, despite having had most of its wards released at the end of the war. With a look of resignation, Ron went to help his father with all the cases, while Harry hastily checked his glamour, smoothed down the front of his pullover and followed Hermione out of the door. As soon as they stepped outside, Hermione ran down the steps and into her father's arms. Mr Granger was a short, stocky man with thinning brown hair. His slightly dishevelled clothing seemed to imply that he was retired rather than the dentist he actually was. Harry hadn't seen this man often, but it would be safe to say he liked him. How could anyone not like a man who laughed loudly when one of the cases he had hastily dumped in the snow sprang open, spewing clothes onto the ground. Behind him, Mrs Granger rolled her eyes in a manner that made one think she was rather used to this sort of thing. With her hair neatly done up in a bun at the nape of her neck and a pair of glasses perched on her nose, you could easily see where Hermione had got her studious nature from. Her clothes contrasted strongly with her husband's, from the pristine white blouse she was wearing to the sensible black pumps on her feet. Harry walked down the steps and over to her as Hermione knelt in the snow with her father, laughing as they tried to brush the flakes off a large woollen jumper.

"Hello, Mrs Granger," he said formally, shaking her hand, "It's a pleasure to see you again."

This was a woman who had perfected the art of looking down at people through her spectacles, even though she was roughly the same height as Harry.

"Thank you. You're ...Harry, right?"

"That's me," he ducked his head under her scrutinising gaze, "Shall I take you inside?"

Hermione's father came up on the other side of Harry, valiantly attempting to dust down the knees of his snow-sodden trousers. After failing dismally in that respect, he turned his attentions to the boy beside him, grasping his hand firmly with a, "Good to see you again, Harry. Hermione's kept us up to date with all of your news. How's the Quidditch training going?"

"Oh, umm... it's been ok this term. We beat Slytherin ...that's one of the-"

"One of the four houses, I know. It may have taken a while, but Hermione has managed to teach us a fair amount about Hogwarts."

Harry grinned, adding, "I bet she's read you the entirety of 'Hogwarts: A History'." There was an indignant squeak from behind him as Mr Granger chuckled.

Mrs Granger said something to her daughter at that point, but Harry didn't quite catch it; his eyes were drawn to a man further down the street. He was fairly ordinary looking from the neck down, sporting jeans and a plain black sweater. The man's hair however was vivid purple and grown down to around his shoulders. Reginald "Reggie" Bucklin: one of the Daily Prophet's hounds. Harry had seen more than his fair share of him over the past school year after Rita Skeeter's resignation. He seemed to have become the leading reporter on Harry's affairs, always managing to turn up wherever he was least wanted but, after the hype at the end of the war and Harry disappearing over the summer, it seemed he had fallen back into line with the rest of them, appearing here and there with little pieces of news. But now, here he was, less than six houses away from them. Luckily, it didn't seem as though he had noticed anything unusual about their small party, but if they didn't move soon he might just think to look twice and from past experience that was all he would need to see who they were. Harry nervously mussed his fringe over his forehead and nudged Hermione.

"Look," he whispered, jerking his head towards the approaching figure.

"Oh gods, it's that Bucklin again. We'd best get inside," she grabbed one of the cases beside her, "Come on, Mum, Dad. Let's go."

Both of her parents, having heard what they'd said, were looking at the reporter. Harry winced, hoping they wouldn't attract his attention. In all fairness, he did have very eye-catching hair. People were bound to look at him oddly from time to time.

"Dad," hissed the girl, gesturing towards the remaining cases with her free hand. Mr Granger, it seemed, had seen the steely glint in Hermione's eye and instantly hopped to, picking up both cases and following after his daughter with his wife close behind. Harry ducked his head and tried to look unhurried as he walked up the steps. He could hear Hermione's mother's "But this is just a wall. Are you sure there's a house here?" as well as Hermione's frustrated, "Just trust me, ok?" and was glad that there was no-one else out on the street. If there were any Muggles around they'd have had to wait for them to leave before walking, as Mrs Granger believed, into a solid wall.

Hermione stepped half into the doorway to prove it wasn't impenetrable then ushered her amazed parents past her. Harry was waiting behind them and quickly cast a glance over his shoulder. For a brief moment his eyes connected with Bucklin's then the man walked on by and Harry practically fell through the doorway in relief. The very last thing he needed over the holidays were reporters camped outside the house. He was just grateful that no-one seemed to know of the house's location due to it's past use as the order's headquarters. It may not still be warded, but it was one of the best places to hide out in; not many reporters would think to search for a house that, to all intents and purposes, hadn't existed until a few months ago.

Mrs Granger's voice cut through his thoughts, "What was all that about?"

"You know how I told you about the Daily Prophet meddling in Harry's life? Well that was one of its lackeys: Reggie Bucklin," said Hermione, with open disgust in her voice. Bucklin hadn't just inherited an interest in Harry from Skeeter; he'd also been allocated his fair share of hatred from Hermione.

"Ah, welcome," came Remus' voice as he walked down the hall towards them. Introductions were made by Hermione which incorporated Ron, Draco, Ginny, Arthur and the twins who all came clattering down the stairs moments later. After the formalities were over with and Hermione had taken her parents off to see their room, Remus turned to Harry.

"What's this I hear about Bucklin?" he asked, his expression as stony as Hermione's had been.

Suddenly, all eyes were on him as Ron jumped in with, "Bucklin? What's that bastard been doing now?"

Harry grimaced, "With any luck, nothing. He was just walking down the street outside the house. I don't think he even saw me."

"Awfully coincidental that he happened to be on this street don't you think?" The mutter came from either Fred or George and caused a stir of agreement in the group.

"He probably just lives near here or something." Harry could see Ron open his mouth to respond, and groaned inwardly. If it hadn't been for Mrs Weasley's voice breaking through from the sitting room just then, he might have had to turn tail and run back out onto the street, Bucklin or no. He'd had far too many of these 'discussions' about Bucklin before and they only ever served in getting people worked up. Fixing his best smile in place, Harry once again filed into the living room as the last few guests arrived. Molly was already exclaiming about how tall Ron was, stating that he must have grown at least an inch since term began. Behind her, Charlie stumbled out of the fireplace, barely managing to stay upright. He'd grown his hair slightly longer since Harry had last seen him, and the rolled-up sleeves of his jersey showed new burn marks and scratches on his arms. As he moved aside to be greeted very formally by both Fred and George, with much bowing and gesticulating involved, Bill appeared where he'd been, equally unsteady as he landed. In contrast to his brother, Bill had finally cut his hair, no longer wearing it in a ponytail (although he'd managed to keep his earring). Fleur appeared seconds later, alighting gracefully on the floor beside her husband, not wobbling in the slightest despite holding their daughter in her arms. Harry's heart gave a jolt, watching as Bill put his arm around Fleur's shoulders and leant over to check on the four-month old she was cradling against her. He was relieved when Molly swept him up in a tight embrace, obscuring his vision of the happy couple.

"Harry, dear, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you." Over her shoulder, he could see Arthur making his way towards the Grangers.

"Isn't it lovely having all these people here? It really is a shame Percy couldn't make it, but he's meeting Penelope's parents," her eyes shimmered with the prospect of a potential engagement. Fred, George, Harry and Ron had bets going on when he'd propose. "Well, I'd better go and greet the host ...is Sirius not here?" She didn't wait for an answer before bustling off to see Remus who was currently talking to Fleur and Bill. Harry looked away, spotting Draco hovering in the doorway. He would have dragged him into the room had he not been accosted suddenly by the ever-present twins and pulled over to greet Charlie.

"Harry! How's it going?" There was something about Charlie that just put you right at ease. Harry could still remember meeting him for the first time, feeling in awe of the tall, well-muscled man. It was weird not to have to crane his neck to look him anymore.

"Not bad. What about you?" He glanced at his forearms, "I see you've been working hard."

Chuckling, Charlie raised his arms up to the light, turning them over to show the numerous injuries across them. "Being mauled you mean? We've got a particularly tetchy Ridgeback at play over there." He lowered his arms again, tucking his hands into his pockets to complete his laidback appearance, "And you? Lots of schoolwork at the moment?"

"Yeah, you know, studying for my N.E.W.T.s this year."

"Oh, gosh, I remember those. Don't know how I got through them - I couldn't even scrape a Dreadful now. Still, you-"

George cut across him with a sigh of, "Boring." He and Fred were sporting identical looks of suffering, as Fred put a hand to his head and said gravely, "There was a time when young men found better things to talk about."

Charlie punched him lightly on the arm, causing Fred to mock-collapse into his twin's waiting arms. Laughing, Harry decided to put them to better use, "Maybe you two could do me a favour?" They turned their heads to look at him, interest piqued, "Do you think you could manhandle Draco over here?" He'd barely got the words out before they were gone, wending their way through the room. "Have you met him?" he asked Charlie, as he saw Draco trying vainly to evade the twins.

"The ex-Malfoy heir? Don't think so."

Fred and George had somehow managed to capture Draco and scurried back with him in tow. They bowed and scraped as they drew near, presenting the non-plussed boy to his companions, before deciding to turn their attentions to Ron.

"Draco, this is Charlie. Charlie, Draco."

Draco eyed the other man up, eyes lingering on his arms, "You're the brother who works with dragons?"

That elicited a snort from Charlie, who hid his arms behind his back as he said, "How'd you guess?"

_Job done, _thought Harry as he sidled off. Molly and Remus were just leaving the room, no doubt to finalise sleeping arrangements. Harry was about to go and help Ron escape from the twins when he felt a hand on his arm, "'Arry, it eez so lovely to see you again."

He turned reluctantly, his brain supplying, "Fleur, Bill. Great to see you too. And this must be Victoire." They both smiled down at their daughter causing Harry to stumble a little on his next words, "Sh-... She's gorgeous."

"Thanks," Bill grinned up at him, "It's quite a relief she's quiet at the moment."

"'Ey, she 'eard that," Fleur said indignantly, glaring up at him. Bill, with practised ease, swooped in to peck her cheek, managing not to jostle the infant in her arms.

"I'm sure she won't hold it against me," he murmured. All of a sudden, Hermione appeared at Harry's side, immediately taking his place to greet Fleur and Bill. Harry slipped away gratefully to the sounds of Hermione cooing over Victoire, and went over to Arthur and Mr Granger who seemed to be talking about torches.

* * *

After lunch, everyone settled down in the expansive sitting room. The younger ones ended up playing chess, gobstones and exploding snap, while the adults chatted pleasantly about everything and anything. By the time evening rolled around, Harry was situated in the kitchen helping Ron and Bill lay the magically enlarged table for all of them as Remus and Molly busied about making supper.

"Has Sirius come down yet?" asked Remus as he dug the plates out from one of the many cupboards.

Ron looked up, "Haven't seen him."

Remus sighed, pushing his hair back from his face, "He didn't appear for lunch either. I don't suppose you could go and get him, could you..." he turned to look at Harry then seemingly caught himself before adding on, "Ron?"

"I'll go," Harry interjected.

Ron was holding a large selection of glasses in his hands and started setting them all carefully down whilst muttering, "No, don't worry, I'll just-"

Harry delivered a swift, "I'll go, Ron," before walking out of the room, aware that he was being watched from probably all angles.

He took the stairs slowly, trying to steady his nerves. This was ridiculous, it was _Sirius_ for crying out loud. His over-excitable, completely irresponsible godfather. He knocked timidly on the door, waiting for the mumbled 'Come in' before turning the handle.

"Siri? It's me," said Harry, pushing the door open gently.

Sirius himself was sitting cross-legged on the armchair in the corner of the room, one elbow resting on its slightly worn arm. His clothes looked decent enough, although his hair was incredibly mussed, as though he'd run his fingers through it a lot. He looked up as Harry entered the room but gave no other sign of greeting.

Harry stood in the doorway, waiting. When nothing else was forthcoming, he said, "Remus wanted you to know that it's supper now and... I..." He paused for some sort of response, then stepped further into the room. "Please, don't be mad at me."

Sirius lowered his eyes with a muttered, "'M not."

"Yes you are." The door clicked shut as Harry pushed it closed behind him, "You haven't spoken to me since yesterday."

For a moment, he thought the other man wasn't going to answer him. Then suddenly, he raised his eyes and snapped, "Well, can you blame me? I've just found out you've been..." he made some obscure gesture in the air, "...with _Snape_." He let one of his legs hang off the front of the chair as he sat up straighter, kneading the fabric of the chair arm with his fist.

Eager to placate him, Harry said quietly, "It's really not that big a deal."

This, however, only served in angering Sirius more. He thumped his fist onto the chair and growled, "Yes it bloody well is! It's Snape. You... and him.... and now you're..." he trailed away, fuming silently. In all the time Harry'd known him, he'd never seen Sirius get this worked up about something. Angry yes, but he always managed to express himself (often by shouting). Harry could sense this wasn't going to go well.

"Nothing's changed, Siri. You were fine with this 'til you found out it was his. I don't see how it really makes a difference to you whose it is. It's not like he and I are still..." he broke off at the look on Sirius' face. Something seemed to have snapped in the animagus and the words he had mislaid a moment ago suddenly flowed back into his mind.

"It makes a difference to me that he laid his dirty hands on you. It makes a difference that the perverted-"

Harry cut across him, rising to the bait against his better judgement, "Gods, you make it sound so... sordid."

Sirius' eyes flashed, his tone becoming harsher, "What else is it? He obviously took advantage of you."

"What? You think he forced me?" Harry conveniently forgot at that moment that both Remus and Poppy had alluded to the same thing. Right now, he was concentrating on the man before him and no one else.

Sirius faltered, then sneered, "I'm supposed to believe that this is what you wanted?"

"Yes. Yes you are," said Harry incredulously, "It's not exactly a difficult concept to grasp."

"No," said Sirius firmly, "It's disgusting enough as it is, but I don't believe you're stupid enough to have brought it on yourself."

If he was thinking clearly, Harry would have cut his losses and left then. Better to leave it unresolved and take a chance to cool down than continue an argument that was rapidly spiralling out of control. Instead, however, he raised his eyebrows and asked, "So I'm disgusting and stupid now?"

"Apparently so. I mean, it's _Snape_," said Sirius in a tone that seemed to imply that that was all that needed to be said on the matter. The very simplicity of that statement hit a nerve.

"You know," Harry said coldly, "I was thinking this over when I came up here, trying to work out what to say. I had answers all ready for your objections to him being older than me, or being my teacher, but you don't really care about that do you? You only care because it's someone you hated in school."

He was breathing more heavily than normal with the effort of trying to keep his voice restrained. However, when Sirius, instead of looking contrite merely asked, "Does it matter what my reasons are?" Harry lost the will to keep his voice low. He didn't care if the rest of the house heard him anymore.

"Yes!" he half-shouted, raking his hand distractedly through his hair, "I... I thought you'd have had better reasons for doing what you did."

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. Whatever he had been about to throw at Harry died in his throat. He looked confusedly around before asking slowly, "What _I _did? What the hell did _I_ do?"

"You told Severus, didn't you?" hissed Harry, "Even when I was begging you not to, you didn't listen."

Sirius still looked puzzled. When he said, "So?" Harry seriously considered punching him. Something held him back and instead he just ground out, "So now he hates me and it was simply because you wanted to get one over on him again?"

"What does that matter?" shrugged Sirius, "He hates you, big deal." Quite honestly, he could have had the same effect if he'd slapped Harry. It was a few seconds before the boy could bring himself to respond.

"Don't... don't you care at all?"

"What? About him?" asked Sirius in disbelief.

"About me!" Harry was surprised the entire household hadn't stormed the room yet, with the volume his voice had risen to, "Do you even know what he said to me after that? Did you know that he told me that I'd fucked up, that this child was a fuck-up?"

"You see?" Sirius crowed triumphantly, "He's an evil basta-"

"No! He's not. That wasn't meant as bloody ammunition to throw back in my face. Gods, all you can think about is your stupid schoolboy feud, while I have to hear... have to deal with..." he broke off, then swore viciously. Turning abruptly on his heel, he stalked out, slamming the door so hard behind him the handle shook.

He took the steps two at a time, determined to make it out of the house before he could be stopped. He saw Remus coming out of the kitchen as he strode down the corridor, but he swerved off to the right before he could attempt to talk to him and walked out into the dimly lit garden once more.

It was relatively mild outside and since it wasn't actually snowing, Harry didn't need a cloak, which was fortunate as he hadn't even thought to grab one on his way past. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw, but he knew the others would be upon him in a matter of seconds if he did that. Instead, he kept walking, right down to the trees at the far end of the garden, kicking the snow on the ground as he went.

He could go back and walk out the front door. Just go and lose himself in the city. But he'd most likely just get cornered by one of the people in the house and be made to stay. He looked at the wall in desperation, trying to work out if he could climb it, but seeing as it was quite a bit taller than him he guessed not. Still, the rage coursing through him made him want to get out and run as far as he could until he was a long, long way away from this house and these people. He paced erratically around the end of the garden, looping back on himself then suddenly turning this way or that. Several times he started back towards the house with the idea of marching back up to Sirius' room to continue the argument, but then he'd think better of that and turn around, kicking at the ground in frustration.

Slowly, the heat of his anger left him and he stopped walking, letting out a shuddering breath. He felt his mind clear and his rational thoughts come back to him, pushing away half-baked ideas of escape. He cringed as he realised that probably everyone had heard him screaming at Sirius, and wondered absently if he could stay out here until they all forgot.

The bench caught his eye, and he moved over to sit on it, feeling almost lethargic without the fury in him. If Draco were here he'd no doubt have spent the last however many minutes (or hours, he really didn't know) telling him to calm down for the sake of the baby. Sometimes, he wondered if Draco was more concerned for her welfare than he was. His fingers twitched towards his wand, releasing the glamour he was still wearing. Through his thin pullover the curve of his stomach became clearly visible. Almost painfully so; the reality of it was unavoidable now. There were no more little flutters of hope that he could still resolve things with Severus by telling him the truth. He'd hit a dead-end and turned to find himself alone and feeling far too young to have made the right decision. He felt a tingling feeling in his fingers and feet as panic washed over him. This was all really happening. It was real and it was so much more terrifying than he'd really bargained for. He scrambled around in his mind, trying to work out how he'd been so complacent over the past month. He flexed his fingers, as if that could dispel this sudden anxiety, and rested his hands on his stomach. He was so on edge that he actually leapt to his feet when something flashed to the side of him. Whipping his head around, he saw the tell-tale wisp of smoke that was common with wizarding cameras in the bushes to his left, even as the culprit shimmied up and over the wall, his camera swinging wildly on its strap around his neck. There was no mistaking that hair.

"Oh, fuck it all," swore Harry, rubbing his face tiredly. He reapplied his glamour in a futile attempt to undo the last few moments, but the damage was done. No doubt Bucklin would be apparating that very moment to the Prophet's offices. He wished he hadn't taken the glamour off. If he'd just kept it on until he was in his rooms... Although, in fairness, he wasn't to know that there'd be reporters in the shrubbery. It really didn't matter now; the photo was taken and would no doubt appear somewhere in the Prophet tomorrow.

"Harry? Supper," called Hermione from somewhere near the house.

He traipsed back, weighed down by thoughts of what Severus' reaction would be to this. The way they'd left things, he'd probably be back to assuming that Harry did it for the publicity. Of course, thinking about Snape just lead him into a twisting maze of thoughts about the man, and it wasn't until he got into bed that he suddenly realised that he still hadn't told the newly arrived guests about the baby. He'd just have to try to get to the paper before anyone else in the morning.

* * *

He almost managed it. However, as he walked into the kitchen, he was met by the sight of both Draco and Charlie poring over the paper that was currently lying on the table. They both looked up as he came in.

"Did you know about this?" asked Draco, pushing the paper over to him so he could see it more clearly. Harry was dismayed to see that the article had apparently made it to the front cover. He nodded dumbly.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Yawning, Harry muttered, "You couldn't have stopped it. Besides, it was last night before supper and I just sort of forgot. I dunno, I was thinking about other things."

Draco looked like he was about to ask what else there could be to think about, but then he decided better of it. He could probably guess.

"I take it this is true then?" asked Charlie, finally speaking up. There wasn't anything judgemental or disappointed in his tone - he might as well have been commenting on the weather.

Harry's looked at his feet nervously, then up at the other man. "Um... yeah."

Charlie's only response was a nod before he made for the kettle. Nothing else. No opinion, no advice, no further questions. Just an acceptance of the fact. Which, at this early hour of the morning, suited Harry just fine.

Draco, however, wasn't so easily pleased. "But how did Bucklin get that photo?" he demanded.

"He got into the garden. The wards are still down, and he just climbed over the wall," Harry said distractedly as he started reading the article. Draco opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head and waited until Harry had finished.

_POTTER PREGNANT_

_Reporter: Reggie Bucklin_

_---_

_Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, has been out of the public eye for a while. That's not to say he hasn't been busy though; it would seem moreover that our Hero has a lot on his plate at the moment. Currently studying for his NEWTs at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr Potter is also pregnant. The photo of him was taken yesterday afternoon in London. Many of you may be shocked to be reading this and we must ask ourselves whether our children are receiving enough health education at Hogwarts for this to have happened...._

Harry skimmed through the rest of the article which continued in much the same way, blaming the teaching staff at Hogwarts and speculating about the identity of the other father. He took a deep breath, then lowered the paper.

"So?" asked Draco.

"So what?" Harry couldn't see anything unusual about the article. It was pretty much what he'd expected; scandal and blame.

"Who do you think it was?"

Now Harry really was confused. "Huh? It was Bucklin, wasn't it?" He did a quick double check to see that the reporter had been named. Yes, there it was, under the title. Not easy to miss really.

"Didn't you see this?" Draco pulled the article back towards him and looked over it quickly before finding the bit he wanted and pointing it out. Harry craned his neck round to read it at an angle.

_...an unnamed source alerted the Prophet of this late on Saturday evening..._

* * *

At that moment, Severus Snape choked on his anti-hangover potion as he glanced groggily at the morning's paper. He scanned it quickly. It was the same as always; reporters sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted. He looked at the name under the title.

_Bucklin. Figures. _

Bucklin had made himself unpopular last year with the vast majority of Hogwarts staff by continually fire-calling them to try to get an interview. Even now, he still called a selection of them every month or so, just in case. Going back to the main article, something caught Severus' eye.

_Unnamed source? Is he lying, or did someone finally crack? _

Disgusted, Snape tossed the paper aside. Really, the last thing he needed to think about now was Harry. He'd successfully avoided that thus far due to a combination of fire-whiskey and unconsciousness. Not bad for a day and a half's work. Walking over to make some coffee, he noticed a small card at the other end of the table. It looked like a business card from this distance. Thoughts of coffee abandoned he strode swiftly over to the card and picked it up.

_Reginald Bucklin? Why on earth... wait... no. Unnamed source? Surely not..._

He turned it over slowly, a sense of trepidation building in him.

_Please be blank._

It wasn't. Scrawled on the back in purple ink were the simple words 'Thanks for the tip-off. RB'

* * *

_**AN: **hey, as always sorry for the slow update. RL was pretty busy what with A2 exams and everything. Also, as you may have noticed, this is a rather massive chapter - i just didn't want to split it up because i like it like this, but it did mean that while i had the majority done for quite some time, i only finished it late yesterday. hopefully there aren't too many mistakes in it :s_

_about bill, fleur and victoire - i have no idea when they actually got married in relation to my rather skewed timeline, so i've just assumed that they've been married about a year and that victoire is four-months old. this is almost certainly wrong, but to be honest, i've messed with much more than that from canon, so i'm sure you'll forgive me :D_

_i'm leaving to go to Mallorca for a week in about... 2 hours, so i won't be able to reply to your reviews, should you deign to leave them. wouldn't it be nice to arrive back to hundreds of comments? (*sigh* i can dream). anyhoos, just letting you know that i will reply to you at some point, just not instantly. thanks for your continued support with this - whenever i get a new review it really pushes me to get my current chapter finished :D_

_next chapter: everyone's reactions! and probably liver failure for poor sev. _

_cheers for reading!_


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